Yes, but
by aestel
Summary: An irreverent, but in character parody of the MLC where Snape and Tonks show the Wizarding World what they think about arranged marriages. Nominated for the Multifaceted Awards Round Four in the Laughter and Pride categories! AU since HBP!
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER**: _This story is intentionally and occasionally unexpectedly humorous. Eating and drinking while reading may present a choking hazard, and we therefore strongly advise that you refrain from such activities while reading the following story. Likewise, those precariously seated should be advised that sudden rollicking fits of laughter can result in a loss of balance and may be injurious to your health and welfare.   
_

_Oh, and obviously none of the characters were harmed in the making of this fanfiction… I mean they aren't based on real people… oh! They're not mine. Like you hadn't figured that out already. Honestly. _

**WARNINGS**: _AU - This story was begun prior to the release of HBP and although I might steal tidbits from HBP, this story diverged from canon at that point. Frankly, I am overjoyed by this. That said, expect the characters to be as credible as I can make them behave, despite the non-canon circumstances.  
__VIOLENCE - There are Death Eaters and Aurors in this story. They don't sort out their differences over tea and biscuits.  
STRONG LANGUAGE - Mostly of the British English sort, but occasionally the type of curses that other people can understand slip in, too._

There – have I covered it all!?

* * *

Severus Snape looked at the headmaster with barely concealed incredulity. "Absolutely not." 

"Severus, be reasonable," Dumbledore protested. "Have a lemon drop."

"Reasonable? _Reasonable_?" Snape took a moment to calm himself, impatiently waving away the proffered candy. It occurred to him that the headmaster might have finally slipped into his dotage, but the infernal twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes suggested otherwise. "I fail to see the _reason_, Headmaster."

Dumbledore continued to smile benignly at his Potions master. "You have done outstanding work for the Order, Severus. No one would deny that. And, frankly, you are too valuable a spy to waste. Voldemort is concentrating his efforts on the Muggle world, and therefore that is where we need you to be our eyes and ears - with your new partner, of course."

Snape refused to be mollified by the rather obvious attempts at flattery. "Yes, but..."

"She is exceptionally gifted, Severus," Dumbledore continued over Snape's interruption. "She knows the Muggle world far better than you. And although she comes from a line of rather dark wizards, her loyalty to the Order is without question."

In Snape's defense, he was well aware that trying to make Albus Dumbledore see reason in instances such as this was nothing more than an exercise in frustration. The diabolical old man would inevitably have his way; nonetheless, Snape felt compelled to lodge a vehement protest. "My memories of her time here as a student are painfully vivid, Headmaster. 'Exceptionally gifted' is not how I would describe her."

Dumbledore sighed. "I know this is not easy for you, but we all need to make sacrifices above and beyond what we have already given. It is essential that we keep a close watch on the Muggles - and in order to do that, you need a partner."

Snape's hands slipped from his temples to grasp the edge of the desk, his knuckles whitening. "Yes... but Miss _Tonks_?"

* * *

Note: This first chapter was written as a stand-alone short and a bit of a protest piece towards all-powerful MarySues that swoop in, have a spat or two with Snape and... well, you know the rest. I wrote one too - I just didn't inflict it on anyone else. 

The rest of the story was inspired by it and cough well, a popular HP fanfiction gizmo. Read more to find out what...


	2. One

"Wotcher Professor?" Tonks peered out from the partially-opened door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. As she snapped her gum, Snape noticed with a vague feeling of distaste that it was the precise shade of her hair. He did not care to speculate about which order she chose to coordinate them. "Not exactly a nice night, is it?"

"Really, Miss Tonks, I quite enjoy waiting outside in the middle of a sleeting thunderstorm while some dunderheaded former student gets around to granting me entrance," Snape said from his place on the doorstep. Sleet, he noticed, had somehow managed to circumvent his high-necked collar and had begun to seep down the back of his neck uncomfortably.

Tonks' mouth formed into a silent O of realization as Snape's words finally hit her. Unfortunately, it was as if the grating sarcasm just bounced right off of the witch. Instantly, she was grinning like they shared some private joke. "So should we expect you to be in particularly good humor this evening?"

Snape smiled viciously. "You won't know unless you let me in, will you?"

"Good call," Tonks said. Without further ado, she released the chain and flung open the door. "Group's all in the dining room."

"And I half-expected them to be gathered in the foyer eagerly awaiting my arrival."

"Right attitude, wrong location," Tonks said with her habitual cheery terseness.

Snape paused and raised an eyebrow at her. His appearance was rarely greeted with any form of eagerness, especially since Potter had rather spectacularly blown his cover as a spy to Voldemort. His presence had become more or less... superfluous.

"You'll just have to wait and see, now won't you?"

"Miss Tonks..." he said warningly.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I am not going to play some infantile guessing game with you."

Tonks grinned slightly and rocked forward onto her toes. "That's your prerogative, sir." The damned witch knew she was irritating him - and was reveling in it.

"Are you determined to make this partnership of ours as painful as possible?"

He continued to regard her with a raised eyebrow while the infuriating little twit ran her fingers through her bubblegum-pink hair. "Dunno. Hadn't really thought about it."

"In a gesture of friendship, you might consider telling me what in Merlin's name is going on, here..."

Her eyes widened in feigned shock before the irrepressible grin returned. "And spoil Dumbledore's surprise? Even I'm not that much of a dunderhead."

"That remains to be seen," Snape muttered, following her into the dining room. As he stepped across the threshold, he could feel the excitement in the room almost as if the air were charged with magic. Considering the occupants, that was not out of the realm of possibility. He saw Dumbledore, Potter, Granger, assorted Weasleys, Longbottom - his lips curled unconsciously in distaste - and a grinning Draco Malfoy. _Well, well..._

He caught a glimpse of a maddening twinkle through half-moon spectacles before striding across the room to greet his protégé. "Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy looked inordinately pleased with himself as he stood up and offered Snape his hand. "I heard you people might be looking for a good spy in the Death Eater ranks."

Snape took the offered hand, favoring the young man with a piercing stare. He suspected this moment would come - after all, he had been doing his best to bring it about since the boy entered Hogwarts. Yet he couldn't help but think the boy was being both rash and incredibly stupid. "Malfoy: was your attention elsewhere while they tortured me within an inch of my life?" _Or when I suffered the embarrassment of having to be rescued by Potter?_

"Severus," Albus protested.

"I know the risks, Professor." Malfoy shrugged. "Consider the alternative."

"Sit down, Severus, Draco." The headmaster indicated their chairs with a wave of his hand. "Believe it or not, we have other business to attend to. Arthur?"

Arthur Weasley scratched his chin. "Fudge is up to something. He's called six emergency sessions of the legislature this week - closed door, of course - and members that are not among his cronies have all been conspicuously absent."

"Who votes for that man - honestly?" Tonks asked.

"Could you find out what they are planning?" Lupin prodded in his hoarse voice.

The balding ginger head shook mournfully. Arthur Weasley had aged a great deal in these last years. He no longer bustled around with the same infuriating energy. "Not a peep. Whatever it is, though, it's big. And soon. I think it's imperative we find out what they're planning."

"I'll do it," Snape found himself volunteering before he had a chance to think twice. Severus Snape did not volunteer. Then again, Severus Snape did not need to be rescued by Potter. Nor did he sit around feeling useless and peripheral. "Who would be the best target?"

"My son," Weasley said shortly.

Ah, so pompous Percy had his hand in this, too? Yes, he would be a perfect target. _But how to bait the trap..._ Snape narrowed his eyes speculatively.

"I could probably help," Tonks offered, shrugging.

"Really, Miss Tonks?" A lethal mixture of false sweetness and sarcasm dripped from his words.

The witch had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I don't know how to put this, Arthur..."

"Percy is a great git," Ronald Weasley supplied.

"Well, yes. Bloody hell. He's been sending me flowers." The redness suffusing her features was most likely involuntary, and the words tumbled out of the metamorphmagus' mouth in much the same way that books had spilled out of her bag when she was student. And potions had spilled off the shelves every time she entered his classroom... "Honestly, I don't have a bloody clue what he thinks he's doing. I'm _years_ older then he is... There's always the chance he's trying to subvert me... very badly... " Her words trailed off as both hands covered her face.

"Excellent, Miss Tonks," Dumbledore said, preventing her from further embarrassment. "I'm certain Severus could find some way to take advantage of this?"

"Of course." Judging by this most recent display, the witch wouldn't be able to act to save her own skin, but in the case of Percy Weasely, his arrogance would blind him. It would be simplicity itself, even with such a clumsy tool as Miss Tonks.

"Excellent," Dumbledore repeated, clapping his hands together as if the universe had just aligned itself for him again. "I'll leave it to you two to work out the details."

Snape barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes. "Yes, Headmaster."

Snape kept silent for the remainder of the meeting as he planned his attack on Percy Weasley. He absently watched the other members of the Order. The wizarding world's last line of defense against Voldemort was a group comprised of children and the dregs of society: Fletcher's criminal record was longer than most of Granger's essays, Alastor Moody wasn't nicknamed "Mad-Eye" without reason, and the Weasleys currently occupied the position of lowest-regarded pureblood family. As Granger actually _raised her hand_ for permission to speak, he wondered if it wouldn't be wiser to give up now. Then again, Voldemort would not likely welcome him back with open arms.

_Weasley. Percy Weasley. Gryffindor, Head Boy._ Snape recalled the boy with a feeling of distaste not quite on the level he reserved for Longbottom or Tonks - or Potter. Pompous, overly eager to prove himself - most likely due to competition with his brothers and a need to rise above the disdain his family was held in. If he recalled correctly, Weasley also worked for Crouch when he was under the Imperius Curse - which showed a stunning lack of any perceptive ability or intuition. So then, the best way to approach him would be to flatter his ego. Snape's lips curled into a thin, unpleasant smile. It also gave him the perfect excuse to make this assignment as uncomfortable as possible for Tonks. After all, he had seven years of potions classes to make up for.

As the meeting ended and Order members filed out into the foyer, Snape caught Tonks' eye.

"You beckoned, Professor?"

"I assume you have some sort of residence?"

He couldn't quite read the meaning behind her facial tick. "I share a flat with Moody."

"Does Weasley know this?"

Tonks shrugged. He had taken great pains - and numerous Gryffindor house points - to break her of that habit as a student, but now it seemed to have resurfaced with a vengeance. "It's not really a secret. Doubt he's aware of it, though... why?"

"Excellent. I shall meet you there tomorrow afternoon to lay my traps."

The witch was thoroughly confused, and more than a little alarmed. "Yes, but why my place?"

Snape smirked, readying himself to watch the effect his words would have on her. "Because I highly doubt you would be able to lure him back to my chambers at Hogwarts."

He was a little disappointed with her reaction. There was a slight widening of the eyes that betrayed shock, but the faint quirking of her lip didn't express the kind of revulsion he was looking for. Honestly, the woman must be coated with rubber. Almost immediately she was grinning at him again.

"You never really know with Percy..." Tonks shrugged again. "What about a portkey?"

"Ah yes. We could always contrive an elaborate plan involving a highly-traceable illegal portkey - well, two if we intend to return him - numerous obvious memory-altering spells... or did you just plan to Obliviate him entirely? Tell me, is there any sort of aptitude testing for Aurors these days?"

It was little more than his classroom-variety scorn, but Tonks was too ingrained from her years as a pupil to do anything other than flush slightly and keep silent - not that that had ever saved her before. "Answer me, Miss Tonks."

She cocked her head to the side and folded her arms across her chest. "What's _your_ plan - sir?"

Snape smiled in spite of himself at the belated and more than a little sardonic "sir." He recovered instantly, however, and the smile turned malicious. "You will find out tomorrow. Good day, Miss Tonks."

* * *

Tonks massaged her temples, ruefully aware that Snape practically had the gesture trademarked. She really couldn't help it; Snape had been moderately frightening as a professor, but the intervening years had brought about a change in her natural reaction to him. Most of the time now she vacillated between wanting to laugh in his face and to smack him upside the head. She reminded herself forcefully of his value to the Order and skill as a dark wizard and Potions master. He had given up a great deal - but not, in Tonks' estimation, enough to be entitled to behave like such a wanker.

"What'd Snape want?" Harry asked her as she searched the closet for her jacket and hat.

"To set up a meeting. Hatching our dastardly plan to lure Percy to his doom and such." Tonks shrugged the jacket onto her thin frame. "Oh, and I'm pretty sure he said something about plotting your downfall while we're at it."

Harry smiled briefly, though the smile didn't quite reach his too-somber eyes. "Watch out for him, Tonks."

Tonks returned the smile as she found her hatthe antique bowler she had appropriated from Moody the previous summer. Her grin widened outrageously as she donned the hat and tipped it to him. "No worries, Harry. Auror, remember? If you like, I'll provoke him once or twice for you."

There was the faintest twinkle in Harry's eyes as he held the door open for her. "Thanks, Tonks."

"No problem," she said, stepping out into the sleeting rain. "Remind me to tell you about my experiences in NEWT-level Potions, sometime."

The memory of Snape coated in an exploded Pepperup potion kept her warm and smiling on the walk to the nearest tube stop and on her journey across town. Now that she thought of it, she couldn't imagine the Potions master ever setting foot on the tube.

The hairs on the back of her neck pricked in warning that someone was watching her. Under the cover of the oversized bowler, Tonks discreetly surveyed the car. There, across the car, a young Muggle man was not only watching her, but smiling. When he caught her eye, he raised an eyebrow. Tonks quickly looked the other way. She didn't have time for that now. The way Voldemort was going, she wouldn't have time for it for years.

Only when she reached her flat and shrugged off her rainsoaked jacket did Tonks let her guard down. She sighed, exhaustion suddenly flooding through her.

"I know you're behind the sofa." She called out wearily to Moody. When she first moved into his flat, the old Auror had taking to jumping out from behind various pieces of furniture and hexing her before she could defend herself. Since then, Tonks had learned the exact position of everything in the flat, down to the shadows. The sofa's shadow currently sported a Mad-Eye Moody shaped protrusion.

"If I were a Death Eater I would have killed you by now," Moody said sourly as he appeared from behind the sofa.

_Probably sometime last March after I demolished your collection of miniature teacups,_ Tonks thought to herself. Really, she should've humored the old geezer with a hex or two, but at least he had no excuse to start harping on constant vigilance again. "Good thing you're not, then," she responded with her usual blithe unconcern, collapsing into the nearest chair with a distinct lack of grace.

Moody just grumbled to himself as he wandered off into the kitchen. Neither of them was particularly tidy when it came to dishes, so there was quite a bit of clanging before he found whatever he was looking for. "Want tea?"

"Merlin, yes."

"Snape being his usual self?" Moody asked. Tonks heard him setting the kettle on the hob.

Her hands rose to massage her temples, but Tonks checked the gesture at the last minute and settled for scratching her head. "Worse. Oh, he'll be coming here sometime tomorrow afternoon so we can plan the trap for Percy."

Moody returned several minutes later with a tea tray. Both of them were rebels as far as the tea ritual went, preferring to drink their tea black. It was one of the first instances where she had met with Moody's approval.

"Albus wants me to investigate a possible Death Eater stronghold in Glastonbury," Moody growled between great slurps of tea. "I'll probably be gone most of the week."

"Want company?" Tonks volunteered. After all, while she was ostensibly here to learn from Moody, she knew that Dumbledore also wanted her to keep an eye on his old friend.

Moody snorted. "Snape and Weasley not enough for you?"

"We could always trade."

Both his real eye and the magic one swiveled to regard her with amusement. "I'll keep the Death Eaters."

"Sure, take the easy job." Tonks slumped further into her chair with a show of defeat. As they continued to trade half-sentences, she let her mind wander to back to the situation facing her. She was all too aware that she grated on Snape's nerves like few others could. That particular ability had amused her, and she wasn't precisely light-handed with it. But now... Snape had made it quite clear that he would take their partnership as an opportunity to exact retribution. She closed her eyes involuntarily. _Bugger me - I'm in deep shite._


	3. Two

The doorbell rang at precisely 12:01. _Well, it's after __noon... _Tonks sighed to herself as she crossed the carefully constructed disaster that was her flat to answer the door. She was immediately confronted by a bouquet of garishly clashing flowers. At that point Tonks became slightly confused. While she admitted that Snape's vicious sense of humor could extend so far as a bouquet of flowers, from what she knew of the Potions master, the flowers would be innocuous-looking and quite deadly. Not, however, blinding in their tastelessness.

"Percy. Wotcher."

The redhead awkwardly stuck the flowers out. "These are for you."

Tonks blinked and took the flowers. "Erm... thanks. How did you know where I live?"

"It was in the Ministry databases; of course I have highest-level security..."

"Of course," Tonks repeated, at a loss for words. "So... what's going on?"

A bright red blush was spreading up from the collar of the young wizard's robe. Tonks didn't miss the fact that he was dressed to the nines. "Could I p-perhaps come in?"

Tonks thought for a moment. Curiosity won out. "Okay."

She watched with amazement as Percy walked into the flat and actually appeared to make himself _uncomfortable_ on Moody's overstuffed sofa. "What's on your mind, Percy?"

Percy shifted again, and started picking lint from his robes. Tonks wondered idly if she should offer him the lint brush Grandma Tonks had sent her for her birthday. "It's not my mind so much as my _heart_. M-may I call you Nymphadora?"

"Would you like some tea?"

It was Percy's turn to blink. "Of course. Tea would be just wonderful. Would you like some help?"

"No, no. You just sit there and make yourself er... comfortable."

Tonks exhaled noisily when she reached the relative safety of the kitchen. Luckily, that did not leave her much breath left to scream when a black-robed form loomed into her vision.

_"If I were a Death Eater I would have killed you already."_

Her wand was out and a hex was on her lips before she realized that it wasn't some random Death Eater standing in her kitchen. Well, it was a Death Eater, but one she'd invited over. _Well, one who'd invited himself over..._

She heard a shuffling from the living room. "Is anything wrong - Nymphadora?"

Tonks looked up at Snape. "I'm fine. Thought I saw a bat."

She heard the sound of Percy clearing his throat. "Are you certain you don't want any help?"

_It might help if you shut up..._

"It's no problem, Percy." Tonks pocketed her wand and turned away from Snape to fill the kettle with water. She decided to forgo any of her impressive range of oriental teas for the bitter, generic tea that Moody liked to call "Thames special blend." It seemed about right for Percy Weasley.

"Well, if you need anything..."

"I'll let you know."

Snape's eyes were glittering coldly, like flecks of obsidian. Tonks took this for his own venomous version of amusement. As the kettle warmed up, she got the teapot and two cups ready.

"Cream or sugar?" The whisper sent a shiver up her spine. Tonks spun around before she realized that Snape had to be uncomfortably close to whisper like _that_. The proximity became even more uncomfortable as their heads collided. Both attempted to swear as silently as possible as they stumbled apart. Tonks suppressed an urge to beat the Potions master with a wooden spoon, and instead settled for glaring at him questioningly.

He smirked and waved a vial in front of her eyes.

"Either," Tonks mouthed, rolling her eyes. She turned back to the cupboard and fished out the cream and sugar set. She had them filled in a minute and Snape smirked as he topped off the milk with a few drops of potion. Another minute, and Tonks levitated the tea tray into the living room.

She smiled thinly at Percy as she settled the tray onto her coffee table. "Well, here we are," she said, doing her best impression of Molly Weasley while she poured two cups of tea. "So you wanted to talk to me about something? Milk and sugar?"

"It is generally better to pour the milk prior to the tea," Percy corrected.

Tonks was seriously considering cursing the pretentious git. As she was counting back from ten, she wondered which was more overstuffed, Percy or the sofa. "Well, I'll just go dump this in the sink and pour you another cup, then."

Percy smiled condescendingly at her. "It's no matter. I'll take two lumps of sugar, and three fingers of milk, if you please, Nymphadora."

Tonks grimaced slightly. Where was Moody's spare flask when she needed it? "There you go."

"Ah, brewed to perfection."

_Perfection? Honestly, there isn't enough tea in there to tell..._

After taking that small sip, Percy set his teacup down and looked at her meaningfully. It took all Tonks' self control to resist drawing her wand on the wizard when he reached a hand across the coffee table to clasp hers.

"Nymphadora, there is something I need to tell you."

"Yes?" _If you don't stop calling me that I'm going to hex you into oblivion, you sweaty-palmed little prat._

Percy took a deep breath before launching into what was obviously a well-rehearsed speech. "No doubt you are unaware of it, but big things - great things - are happening in the Ministry. Our actions today will reorder the entire wizarding world. And to effect this change, we have had to make some very difficult decisions. A portion of the population will undoubtedly suffer more for the greater good. You must believe that it will be for the greater good, Nymphadora..."

Swallowing her rising bile, Tonks batted her eyelashes at him. She was desperately trying to channel her inner ingenue - but was coming up empty. _Good thing Percy's so bloody thick..._ "Oh I do believe you, Percy. What's happening?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot disclose the details at this time. But I want you - I _need_ you - to know this: I admire you, Nymphadora, and I think you will not be unpleasantly surprised to learn that I care about you deeply. When the time comes, remember that."

Tonks took this revelation in with more decorum than many would have expected from her, especially given the use of her first name. She stared at Percy uncomprehendingly, her mouth agape. "Oookay."

Percy let go of her hand and promptly resumed his restless fidgeting, "This has undoubtedly all been a bit much for you..."

"Oh, no, no," Tonks forced her face into something vaguely resembling a shy smile. "I think I understand... and I want you to know I have feelings for you, too." _Like repulsion, for instance..._

Percy's face shone. "Y-you do?"

Tonks couldn't bring herself to speak, so she nodded. She raised her teacup. "So, how about a toast?"

Percy's teacup clinked hers. "To our understanding..."

_Bottoms up_, Tonks thought to herself, all the while wishing there was something a little stronger in her cup. A heartbeat later, Percy Weasley collapsed back onto the couch, snoring loudly.

A black shadow glided into her peripheral vision. "Don't you dare say a word."

"I hadn't intended to, _Nymphadora_."

Tonks swallowed, trying to fight down the urge to pummel the man. "I've never seen a potion work like that."

He didn't try to conceal the disdain in his voice. "You would not have."

"So what's your take on his cryptic little hints?"

Snape looked at her for a long moment, and then shrugged before turning back to the unconscious wizard on her sofa. "We shall see soon enough. _Oculis aperite_."

As Snape leaned down to stare into Percy's now-open eyes, Tonks abruptly got up and started rummaging through the living room. Snape's head snapped up to look at her. "What are you looking for, Miss Tonks?"

"Moody's spare flask. Found it." She spotted the flask behind the small statue of Lord Nelson that her grandfather Tonks had foisted off on her. The pose reminded her more than a little of Percy's posturing. Thankfully, when uncapped, the flask revealed enough firewhisky for her to at least take the edge off having to deal with both Percy and Snape.

"Are you quite through, then? This does require some measure of concentration."

Tonks waved the flask at him absently as she fell into her favorite armchair. "Carry on."

She received a glower promising retribution before Snape returned his attention to Percy. "_Legilimens_."

* * *

Percy blinked owlishly. "What was I saying?" 

"We had just toasted to our new understanding," Tonks reminded him.

"Oh, of course." He looked at the wall clock. "Merlin, I hadn't realized how late it was. I do apologize, but I should head off to the Ministry. I have a great deal of work to do on this project."

"Well, thank you for stopping over." She rose to escort him to the door. "I really enjoyed it."

Once he reached her front stoop, Percy leaned in as if he was going to kiss her, only to be confronted with Tonks' extended hand. He took the hand and brought it to his lips. "I enjoyed it as well - and I can promise that if all goes according to plan, you will be seeing a great deal more of me. Don't forget to put the flowers in water."

The false smile oozed off her face as Tonks slowly but firmly shut her door.

"Well, as much as I enjoyed watching you play the fatuous romantic heroine to Weasley's mooning lover, I also must go and inform Albus of my discoveries."

Tonks turned on him. "Not until you tell me, Snape."

The dark eyes glittered. "Not just yet, Miss Tonks. Believe me, in this situation, ignorance is bliss."

"I don't feel all that blissful."

Snape smirked at her. "You mistake my meaning. Your ignorance is _my_ bliss."

Tonks was rapidly losing control of her temper. "Get out!"

"I am only too happy to oblige."

The statue of Lord Nelson made a satisfying sound as it hit the door Snape had just closed behind him. She regretted the childish display almost immediately, but as she gathered up the statue - now missing an arm and a leg - she began to laugh sheepishly. "At least it's more realistic, now."

* * *

Note: Hey - thanks to those who reviewed! It's nice to know people are actually reading this, and that you like the Tonks/Moody interaction. It started out as my way of balancing out the Snape/Dumbledore scenes, and now it's just fun - but hopefully it'll stop distracting me from Snape/Tonks soon... :) 


	4. Three

Dumbledore surveyed his Potions master from across his expansive and trinket-ridden desk. Snape devoutly hoped that he was not about to offer any sweets. Having made many of them himself, he knew all too well the potions slipped into them. Calming draughts in the lemon drops, a confusing concoction in the peppermint humbugs, a forgetfulness potion in chocoballs, and veritaserum in the elderberry bon-bons. Of late, however, it seemed that Dumbledore had begun to patronize Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes - which made the Potions master extremely nervous.

"Was your meeting with Tonks profitable?"

Snape glared. "Indeed. It led me to the realization that we have been going about this war entirely the wrong way. We should forget about Potter and instead invite the Dark Lord to tea with Miss Tonks. He'll give up his designs on world domination before you can say 'pass the crumpets'."

Dumbledore smiled, and Snape was struck by the similarity to a certain metamorphmagus. "That aside..."

Snape rubbed his temples. "Every time I am near that witch I get the impression that scores of decomposing Black family ancestors are rolling around in their graves."

Dumbledore was still smiling gently at him. "Given your past relationships with members of the Black family, I would think that would please you, Severus. But I believe you had something else to tell me?"

"Yes, Headmaster. Percy Weasley arrived with a bouquet of flowers shortly before I did. I followed him inside and - with the aid of Miss Tonks - drugged his tea. While he was unconscious, I performed legilimency..."

"_And_, Severus?"

Snape shook his head. "I can't believe that this ridiculous piece of drivel is actually even being considered, much less that people will vote for it..."

"Severus, you didn't by chance happen to stop by the great hall for a cup of tea after your meeting?"

"I came directly here, Headmaster."

"I see. Then may I suggest you take a moment to calm yourself before I am forced to offer you a lemon drop?"

Snape forced himself to take a deep breath, and then released it through his teeth in the hopes that it might annoy the imperturbable man in front of him. "Fine. I'm the picture of serenity, now."

Dumbledore failed to suppress a twinkle of amusement. "What did you see in Percy's mind?"

Snape rubbed his temples at the memory. "You must realize that the images presented by an unconscious mind are completely different than the facts and memories one finds in the conscious mind. I had to sift through his dreams, aspirations, fears... to find that all his current aspirations hinge on a new law the Ministry is proposing, a…" he paused long enough to twist his lips into a sneer and hiss the last two words out between clenched teeth, "…marriage law."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, although Snape noted that the headmaster did not look entirely surprised. "I have heard rumors of this… I scarcely believed even Cornelius could be capable... what are the details?"

Snape's expression turned more sour at the memory. It was not as if the precise language of the law could be picked from a dreaming mind, and what details he had managed to glean came with mental images that made him long for his pensieve. "They are proposing forced marriages between purebloods and half-bloods or Mudbloods. They claim that it will solve the birthrate problem... as if this place needs more children."

Dumbledore did not rise to the bait. He never did. Just once, Snape would like to turn the table on the headmaster, to provoke him past his infamous serenity. "No doubt that is not the true motivation. I wonder what game Cornelius is playing... how long until the law is ready?"

"Within the week. Weasley believes that they have the votes for it. Mostly through bribery and coercion, I suspect. Apparently Fudge managed to absorb some of Lucius' devices during the hours he spent licking his boots."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "And the terms of the new marriage contracts?"

Snape's frown deepened. Weasley's lurid dreams had centered around certain terms of the marriage contract in such detail that the former Death Eater had felt unclean. When he told Tonks that it was better she remain ignorant of Percy Weasley's plans, he had not been entirely lying. "Particularly horrible for the Mudbloods and half-bloods. Compulsory consummation, mandatory childbearing within the first five years…"

"And Weasley?" Dumbledore asked as if sensing Snape's thoughts.

"Weasley intends to petition for Miss Tonks' hand in marriage. Interestingly enough, he is also considering petitioning for Granger. He has designs on marrying an Order member so that he may use her to his advantage in the Ministry." Tonks had access to more Order secrets, but Granger was younger - making her easier to break, of course - and had access to Potter. If Snape were in Weasley's position, he would easily have singled Granger out as the best target. But in his fantasies, Weasley dwelt in excruciating detail on a peculiarity that Snape had overlooked: as a metamorphmagus, Tonks could take the shape of any man's dream.

Dumbledore bowed his head over his steepled fingers. "We cannot allow this to happen."

Snape abruptly dropped his posturing. "They have the votes, Albus. And enough in the Wizengamot to survive a challenge, with Amelia Bones' recent accident. We could always attempt to offer amnesty to those he has threatened and threats to those he has bribed... but these things take time, and more subtlety than most Order members possess."

The eyes that met his were somber. "And what of Voldemort?"

Snape shifted uncomfortably. "I can only guess. I doubt he was behind this - but that said, he stands to profit by it. It will bring chaos and anti-Ministry resentment. If the pureblooded spouse is unhappy with the Mudblood, then he has garnered another supporter. Worst of all, it binds our greatest supporters to his... and no doubt he has considered the same possibility that Percy Weasley has..." _Well, except for the bit about Tonks being a metamorphmagus,_ Snape thought to himself. Almost instantaneously, he was assaulted with speculations about what the Dark Lord's dream woman might be, and he regretted ever leaving the door open for that train of thought. _Perhaps his dream woman is Nagini?_ It took almost all of Snape's considerable willpower to pull himself back from the line of speculation which would have certainly led to the nearest loo.

Recovering from his distraction, Snape at last noticed that the headmaster had not spoken, but seemed to be involved in some internal struggle. At last he heard the old man sigh. "So the question remains: how do we protect our Order members from both the Death Eaters and the Ministry?"

Snape's expression remained carefully bland. "I maintain that we would do better to foist them off on whoever will have them and watch the chaos ensue. Either young woman is quite capable of driving a grown wizard insane…"

Dumbledore raised a hand. "This is not the moment for you to discover you have a sense of humor after all, Severus. The Ministry will undoubtedly employ a binding to keep the muggleborn spouses in line."

Yes, Weasley's fantasies dwelled in excruciating detail on his plans to use the binding to its fullest advantage. When this meeting was finished, Snape promised himself an extended visit with a pensieve… preferably one that he could lock away in a forgotten corner of a cupboard and never find again. "Indeed. On the bright side, Headmaster, it appears that the Ministry has begun to loosen its objections to dark magic."

"Honestly, Severus…"

Snape's lips quirked. He'd said it just to bait the older man, knowing full well the Ministry's long and dishonorable tradition of employing dark magic for its own ends. But for some reason he was not finding this role-reversal as gratifying as it should have been. Something was nagging at him to go easy on the old goat - possibly some long-forgotten pangs of conscience. "Then for once we should be grateful for Arthur and Molly's amazing proclivity. Marry them off to the Weasleys, Albus - although perhaps not Percy."

Dumbledore's untwinkling blue eyes were fixed on one of the many gleaming gadgets on his desk. Snape was watching the headmaster with growing alarm. It was not often that one saw Albus Dumbledore knocked off his game. From Snape's perspective, this marriage law - while certainly one of the Ministry's more egregious attempts to transform an ineffective bureaucracy into a totalitarian dictatorship - was hardly more than a distraction. "This is war, Albus, and I highly doubt that marriage is actually listed amongst the worst tragedies that can befall a person during wartime.

"You were correct before, old man: we need to focus all our attention on the Muggle world. The Dark Lord will undoubtedly take advantage of our preoccupation with this ridiculous law to strike fast and hard…"

"You're right, Severus."

Snape glowed discretely for a moment. This memory would have a place in an entirely different pensieve; one to be viewed and reviewed, and left out on his desk for prying students. _Come here, Potter. Stick your bloody nose into this one… _

Snape pushed himself out of the too-comfortable chair. "I'll start immediately, then, Headmaster. Although I shall dearly _miss_ the loss of my partner, I can understand that due to her imminent nuptials she might be otherwise occupied..." _Packing herself off to Romania if she chooses Charlie Weasley._

With a feeling that might possibly be glee warming the cockles of his black heart, Snape rose to take his leave of the headmaster. The meeting had gone surprisingly well for him - perhaps he ought to write a thank-you note to Fudge for enacting this ridiculous law.

"You don't have to lose her, Severus."

Snape froze, the warm fuzzy feeling abruptly giving way to trepidation. He had learned to fear those deceptively mild tones. _And would you believe the bloody twinkle is back? _"Oh no..."

"After all, you are a pureblood, my boy."

"Albus: no. There are _plenty_ of Weasleys..."

"Bill is engaged and Charlie is in Romania."

"Then let her move to Romania!"

"We need all of our people here. You yourself said marriage is hardly the worst tragedy…"

"Those words were never meant to apply to me!"

"And yet they do so well. Think on it: you wouldn't have to lose any time with your mission in the Muggle world."

Snape knew he'd lost the minute Dumbledore suggested he think on it. After all, who, upon further reflection, would dare look the greatest wizard of the age in the eye and shout: _I've thought it through, and it's still a harebrained scheme, you meddling, irrational, dewy-eyed sentimentalist?_ He had faced Death Eaters and the Dark Lord with less trepidation. So Snape did what he always did when faced with one of the headmaster's ultimatums: seethed inwardly and resigned himself to the ridicule that would inevitably follow. "Isn't my penance over yet, old man?"

"Marriage is hardly penance." There was a certain sad rebuke in Dumbledore's eyes that never failed to set Snape off further.

"Apparently you have never spent a great deal of time with Miss Tonks," he said coldly. "If that is all, Headmaster…"

"No, you may not leave." Dumbledore stood up to face his Potions master. Normally this would have quelled Snape's tantrum, but the man had slipped too far to even register that the headmaster had moved. "This is only a temporary arrangement until we can have the law repealed."

Snape did not even pause before rounding on him again. "Have you forgotten the fine print? Required consummation and childbearing? I have no intention of fathering Miss Tonks' brats!"

Dumbledore's voice took on a tone he normally reserved for first-years and those who had sustained head wounds. "Need I remind you that you are a _Potions_ master?"

Snape blinked. He had briefly forgotten that fact. _So, no brats._ But still, he wished he could convey how repugnant the thought of marrying Tonks was to him. He paused for a moment, waiting for his mind to catch up to his rant before launching down his final avenue of possible escape. "What about Granger?"

"I believe Mr. Weasley has that situation covered."

"You're just giving her to _Weasley_?"

"_Ronald_ Weasley, Severus. Besides, Miss Granger does not turn eighteen until next September, although I understand there has been some confusion about that recently."

In his ire, Snape momentarily entertained the idea that Arthur and Molly Weasley had so many children just to spite him. Then, abruptly, he sank back into the chair in defeat. All his objections had been exhausted; his only hope was that Miss Tonks's inevitable protests would be more successful. He glowered at the gently twinkling headmaster. "Fine. Give me a lemon drop already, old man."

* * *

After Snape stormed away in a billow of black robes, muttering something incoherent about a pensieve, Albus Dumbledore covered his face in both hands and began to laugh. The portraits - who had long ago learned it was much more enjoyable to keep silent and surreptitiously observe the explosive exchanges between Dumbledore and his highly-strung Potions master - began to murmur amongst themselves. 

"Well, really!"

"In my day we did not tolerate such impertinence."

"The poor girl that has to marry that man!"

"Really, I always thought he was rather dashing… and so intense…"

"Those eyes," another voice chimed in dreamily.

"That _hair_," another said, making a rude snort of disgust.

Amongst the many exclamations, Dumbledore picked out a sly voice. "I can see why you enjoy him so much. In his own perverse way, that boy is an absolute delight. One question however, Dumbledore:"

"Yes, Phineus?"

"Are you absolutely certain you shouldn't have been sorted into Slytherin?"

* * *

Notes: 

Thanks for all the great reviews! I'm not normally an author's note responder, but in the light of my recent disappearance and the sheer awesomeness of the reviews, I thought I might try to manage a few.

Nell-toooldforfanfic: You caught me: I can't actually spell. I'm not that grand at typing either. I AM, however, reasonably adapt at using the spell check. Unfortunately, that doesn't catch homonyms or made-up words.

WAYAMY27NARF: I laughed out loud that you read the update before your exam. I've done that a time or six myself. Hope it went well.

BaskervilleBeauty: I can't tell you how happy I am that someone actually caught that reference, snobby as it was. I considered poking out an eye as well, but I couldn't figure out how to manage that one on a statue.

peepsRfun2eat: thanks for two great reviews. It's the best when people tell me specific things they liked… and it also ensures they'll get more of the same.

And, to Verity Brown, Deadly-Viper-Assassin, and Rose Brown: hopefully chapter four didn't disappoint. I did warn that the story was a parody… but anyway, I'm planning on being light-handed with all the marriage law stuff. After all, there's so much to parody!

Oh, and for the comments on my characterization and writing style: thanks. I'm trying to keep the characters as 'real' as possible, while making the events around them border on the ridiculous.

As for my writing style, I know it's a bit unique; I'm a former writing tutor who's learned all the rules, and then learned how to break them - which generally means that I don't give a damn about complete sentences. Sometimes this can get confusing. Hopefully it hasn't been.

I am also (gasp) American, though I lived in England long enough to appreciate that we are indeed two countries separated by a common language. Anyway, I'll try to keep the Americanisms from being too egregious, but I can't really promise anything.


	5. Four

Tonks put her book aside when she heard the scuff of boots on her front steps, her hand going to her wand before she even registered that she knew those footsteps. _This is what living with Moody does to a girl.._. Moments later, the proper tattoo of wand taps was rapped onto the door, the key turned in the lock and Mad-Eye Moody slumped into the flat.

"How was Glastonbury?" she asked in her best 'you'll notice I'm _not_ hiding behind the sofa' tone of voice.

Moody grunted and took a pull from his flask.

"That good, eh?"

"It was like the entire town was populated with Trelawneys."

Tonks tried to stifle a smile. "Get your tea leaves read?"

Moody harrumphed from the kitchen, and Tonks could hear the clang of the kettle hitting the hob. "Did you break the last of my vases?"

"Huh?"

"There are flowers in the garbage. Is that your statue's arm?"

"Ah. Percy was over. And Snape. For tea. We all had such a smashing time that we've decided to make a regular gig of it. Next time we're dressing up like princesses… or possibly tarts and vicars - we haven't really decided yet. Snape's holding out for tarts and vicars, but that's probably because he wouldn't have to change his robes. Oh, and you'll find your spare flask is missing some firewhisky."

"Some?" Moody asked skeptically.

Tonks had a feeling that even now his magical eye was peering through the wall, past the somewhat banged-up statuette of Nelson, and checking into the contents of the flask. "All," she amended unrepentantly. It was probably time for a change in topic, she decided. "You know we have another meeting tonight?"

Moody hulked back into the living room. "I got the message. What's Dumbledore got up his sleeve this time?"

_Damn_. She was hoping Moody knew. "Dunno. I think it's whatever Snape found out the Ministry was up to."

"He didn't tell you?"

"That man keeps secrets just for the fun of it."

Moody did not answer immediately, but if Tonks had to guess what he was thinking, there would be quite a bit about Death Eaters' personality quirks, and some speculation about what she did to earn Snape's extra-special dislike.

"You apparating?" Moody asked.

Tonks shook her head. She really didn't feel like splinching herself tonight. "Taking the tube."

Moody's magical eye swiveled to regard her. She hated when he did that. "What happened to your broom?"

"Tree. I should probably leave if I'm going to get there on time."

Moody snorted. "See you there, then."

A little over half an hour later, Tonks was climbing up the steps of No. 12 Grimmauld Place. Before she could reach the door knocker, the great door creaked open, ominously silhouetting a dark figure in the amber light from inside. "Well, finally," Snape said.

Tonks raised an eyebrow, then favored Snape with a grin so hopeful it was saccharine. "Miss me, Professor?"

"Desperately," Snape snapped as he opened the door wide enough for her to pass. "Come inside; I want to speak with you before the meeting."

"Maybe you should've mentioned that earlier, sir?" she suggested with a grin. She watched as one of his hands clenched into a fist at his side.

"Severus? Ah, Miss Tonks is here!" Dumbledore sailed past them in a sea of fuchsia velvet. _Really, why does everyone act so surprised when I make it here in one piece? _"Excellent. We should proceed into the dining room immediately."

Tonks was about to follow the headmaster when something caught at her elbow. She looked down to see Snape's pale hand on her arm. After she blinked it was still there, so she looked up at the Potions master in bewilderment.

"I would like a moment with Miss Tonks, Headmaster."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I daresay there will be plenty of time for that later, my boy."

More confused than curious, Tonks moved to follow Dumbledore into the dining room.

"In the future, please remember that I _attempted_ to warn you," Snape muttered in her ear as he pushed past her.

As she trailed in behind him, Tonks mulled over the Potions master's uncharacteristic behavior. When did he ever deign to issue a warning? Generally he seemed to enjoy watching the cauldron blow up in your face, _then_ proceeding to tell you what you did wrong - in excruciating detail. She looked over at him questioningly, but his face revealed nothing other than his usual bad temper.

Arthur Weasley nodded to her in greeting as she took the empty seat between him and Snape. "Have you heard anything more from my son?"

Tonks grimaced. In fact, she had received a particularly disturbing owl from Percy that morning. Devoutly wishing she didn't have to share it, and not trusting herself to read it aloud, Tonks pulled the parchment from a pocket in her robes and handed it to Arthur.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Molly asked.

With great presence of mind, Arthur managed to re-fold the parchment and slide it over to his wife.

As she read the note, Molly's expression took on a strange amalgam of amusement and horror. "Oh my…" Tonks felt herself blushing in acute embarrassment.

"Honestly you people should know better than to pass notes in a room full of professors," George chided his parents as he deftly snatched the note. Tonks was not quite fast enough to grab it back from the redhead, and he beamed at her after he finished reading it.

"Read it to the class, George," his twin prodded.

George cleared his throat, making sure he had the room's full attention. Tonks felt herself blush furiously. "Now then, my pretentious git of a brother wants to relate to his beloved Nymphadora, here, that he very much enjoyed their tea. However he's decided that the epistolary medium is insufficient to convey the full depth and range of his emotions, so the prat has penned her a poem."

Tonks slid her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it at the stocky redhead. "I will hex you, George Weasley."

"Room's full of Aurors, too," Fred reminded her.

Tonks reluctantly put her wand away. What was she thinking, drawing her wand on another person, even as an empty threat? "Honestly, Percy wrote a bad poem and that's all. Let's get on with the meeting."

"This could be relevant to the matter at hand," Snape murmured silkily. Tonks shot the man a death glare before turning to Dumbledore imploringly. The headmaster only shook his head with a glimmer in his eye.

"Read the poem already!" Ron demanded.

"Patience, Ronald," George said, drawing himself up and puffing out his chest in imitation of Percy. "Ahem. This poem is entitled _Nymphadora_," he declaimed.

"Nymphadora,  
How I adore ya.  
I'd do anything for ya,  
So, on my knees I implore ya  
To be mine, Nymphadora."

Tonks buried her head in her hands, unable to look the other Order members in the eye. She was not used to this amount of attention at the meetings, and she was uncomfortable with it.

"Wow, that was bad," she heard Harry say.

"To think you people named _him_ Head Boy!" Ron spluttered.

Tonks heard one of the twins laugh. Fred, she decided. "Give the man a break, Ron… he obviously loves her so much that he condescended to use the word "ya" for the first, second and third times in his life just for her."

"It's hard to rhyme with Tonks," George added sanctimoniously.

"Dunno, I could give it a shot for good ol' Perce," Fred rejoined. "Hmm…

"Oh Tonks-y…  
You make my heart do the Wronski  
Feint."

"And every time I imagine your knickers, I faint," George finished, setting them off into another fit of laughter.

The wand was in Tonks' hand again in a flash, but just as quickly Snape relieved her of it. She looked at the man incredulously, but he was pointedly ignoring her.

"Would you say that constitutes a marriage proposal?" she heard him ask Dumbledore in his rich, smug voice.

"Give me my wand back," Tonks demanded.

Snape turned to her for a moment. "No."

"What?"

Snape again turned from his private conference with Dumbledore. "No, you may not have your wand back, Miss Tonks," he said slowly, with more than a trace of condescension in his low voice. "A word of advice: this evening is about to get much worse for you, so perhaps you should take a moment to calm yourself."

Tonks looked around the room, noticing all the eyes on her. It was unnerving, and she considered for a breathless moment that it _was_ unlike her to be unnerved. Merlin, the only time she was the center of attention was when she was acting the comic relief. But this was different. For some strange reason she felt like she'd been caged and put on display, and she had no idea how to handle it. She could feel the pulse bounding in her chest and neck, and her stomach churned in foreboding. "What did you find out from Percy's mind?" she asked hoarsely.

Snape looked to Dumbledore, and at the headmaster's nod, he rested both hands on the worn tabletop and rose to his feet.

"I was fortunate enough to intercept Percy at Miss Tonks' flat yesterday afternoon," he began. Tonks was suddenly reminded of many years of Potions lectures. For all his faults, the man was adept at capturing the attention of his audience. Even those Order members who were not former students showed rapt attention. A warning pang in her gut told Tonks to grip the edge of the table for support as Snape continued to relate the previous day's events. "After dosing his tea with a powerful sleeping agent, I was able to perform Legilimency on him. From his unconscious mind, I gleaned that the Ministry, in its infinite wisdom, is planning to inflict compulsory marriages upon the wizarding world."

Tonks' mind shut down on hearing the word marriage. "They _what_?"

"More specifically," Snape continued, shooting her a quelling look, "they will soon make it so that any pureblood of age may petition to marry a half-blood or muggleborn above the age of eighteen."

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, turning to the girl in concern.

Hermione sighed. "I'm sixteen, Ronald. I have fourteen months."

"If I may continue?" Snape asked nastily. "Anyone receiving multiple petitions may choose amongst them, of course"

"Percy!" Tonks exclaimed suddenly.

Snape gave her a black look for interrupting him again. "Miss Tonks, in a display of typically Gryffindor articulation and mental acuity, has finally managed to hit upon our current problem."

"Eew," Ron said, as he, too, worked it out. "Erm… sorry mum."

Molly ignored her youngest son's exclamation, and gave Tonks a concerned look. "Will they use the binding, Severus?"

Snape nodded shortly. "Unless the pureblood partner requests otherwise."

"My son intends to employ it?" Arthur Weasley asked as if he already suspected the answer.

Again, Snape nodded.

"What's a binding?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore chose to answer first. Tonks could almost feel him weighing his words. "It's a permanent, somewhat diluted form of the Imperus Curse, Harry."

"The bound one is compelled to obey her husband's orders," Snape elaborated, nearly spitting the words out, "and she receives pleasure from obedience. It also distorts her emotions concerning her husband into something akin to worship, while making all other men seem repellant."

"That's barbaric!" Hermione exclaimed. Tonks felt a surge of sympathy; she didn't doubt the girl was thinking of how she could be in that position in a little over a year. _Oh_, she realized with a start, _that's me. Now. _She blinked rapidly as comprehension dawned. _Bugger._

"It's not without precedence, Hermione," she heard Lupin say from his dark corner of the table. Until now, Tonks hadn't realized he was there. "Pureblood girls were traditionally bound to their husbands."

"To ensure fidelity and docility," Snape added with a sneer.

"It's still barbaric!"

The voices were all starting to blur together in Tonks' head. "Percy," she repeated, half to herself. "I'm going to have to marry Percy."

Snape's head snapped in her direction. "Not necessarily."

She blinked owlishly. "I _don't_ have to marry Percy?"

"No," Snape said as he loomed over her. "Dumbledore has seen fit to offer you a much worse alternative."

Wordlessly, Moody stood up and handed her his flask of firewhisky. Tonks took it and looked up at Snape uncomprehendingly, her mouth agape.

"Drink," Snape advised. He glared at the rest of the room. "If the vast majority of you could see fit to depart now?"

Tonks was dimly aware of Dumbledore saying something and then people filing out of the dining room as she sat there with the flask held limply in her hand.

"Do you want me to stay, dear?" Molly asked her.

"Huh?" Tonks responded.

"I'll stay, Molly," Moody growled, and Tonks felt a surge of affection. As he stood behind her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, the old Auror reminded her of nothing more than a surly teddy bear.

With fewer people in the room, and Tonks began to focus more clearly. She felt rather than saw Moody behind her, Snape looming before her, and Dumbledore hovering behind him.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Snape angled his chair until it faced hers then sat in it. He was very close, Tonks' brain registered as much of her field of vision filled with black. "Take a drink, Miss Tonks. I derive absolutely no pleasure from tormenting young women in fugue states."

Looking at the flask, Tonks felt herself craving a steaming cup of tea instead, but she hesitatingly brought it to her lips and took a gulp. The liquid burned, and Tonks shuddered reflexively. Usually she could handle her liquor much better than this, she thought as her sinus cavities felt seared and her eyes filled with water. She blinked furiously.

Moody squeezed her shoulder, and Tonks closed her eyes for a second before taking another sip. After shaking her head, she felt up to opening her eyes.

"Are you ready to face me, now?" Snape asked.

Tonks looked at him warily. "You make it sound like a duel."

Snape's eyes glimmered and he smiled thinly. "And I still have your wand. Hardly fair, is it?"

_But I have the alcohol_, Tonks found herself thinking. She shook her head again. "Give it back."

"Not just yet. We wouldn't want you coming to your senses and hexing me."

"Get to the point or _I'll_ hex you, Snape," Moody threatened.

"Alastor," Dumbledore warned.

"Very well, Moody. I will _get to the point_, as you insist. Pay very close attention, Miss Tonks: Forgoing all logic and reason - and very much against my will - the Headmaster has decided to issue a marriage proposal for you on my behalf. I suspect you have little over a week to convince the doddering old fool to rescind it and find yourself another husband. Take your wand," he said, shoving it into her hands. "Good evening."

Without another word, Snape swept from the room.


	6. Five

Tonks turned slowly to face Dumbledore. "You want me to marry _him_?"

"Have you gone out of your mind, Albus?" Moody growled in nearly the same breath.

Dumbledore smiled softly and took Snape's chair. "Severus is rather averse to the idea of marriage."

"D'you see me running to pick out my wedding gown?" Tonks exclaimed. _How dare the old meddler suggest that Snape likes the idea any less than I do!_

Dumbledore spread his hands. "It's only a temporary measure until we can repeal the law, and pureblooded Order members are in rather short supply."

Moody guffawed. "With the notable exception of the entire Weasley clan!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "As I explained to Severus, Bill is engaged to Miss Delacour, and Charlie is in Romania."

"Lupin," Moody suggested.

"Half-blood, although his status as a werewolf exempts him from being petitioned for."

"Shacklebolt?"

"Might find the compulsory consummation somewhat difficult."

Tonks snorted to herself, then her mind suddenly backtracked. _Consummation? Fuck!_ As her mind finally agreed to cooperate and started to realize the full ramifications of this idiotic law, Tonks' attention drifted away from the two old wizards.

"Aren't there any other purebloods we can trust?" Moody asked sourly.

"Alas, there are three; however, you, Mundungus and I are all unsuitable for obvious reasons. Unless Miss Tonks has some alternatives, I fear we are left with Severus."

Tonks stood up abruptly. "I've got to go drink some more. Somewhere else." Seconds later, she was out of the room, and the next several moments after that were spent trying to figure out why she was suddenly airborne. It came as a bit of a surprise when she landed facedown on the floor with enough force to knock the wind out of herself. When she finally managed to roll over, she caught a glimpse of a rapidly retreating pair of extendible ears.

"Fred and George Weasley!" she choked out. If the presence of the extendible ears wasn't enough of a giveaway, she caught a glimpse of matching ginger heads peeking over the rail of the staircase. She glared at the pair from her position on the floor, but there was really nothing else she could do - and the little buggers knew it.

"We understand that you are desperate to become a member of the Weasley clan," George said in deft mimicry of Percy's sanctimoniousness.

"But you shouldn't have to marry Percy to do it," Fred concluded.

"I am not marrying Percy!" Tonks tried to shout, but her voice still sounded strangled, and she ended up sending herself into a coughing fit.

"Which you should have picked up in your eavesdropping," she heard Snape drawl from behind her. "But you are absolutely correct in one thing, Weasley: Miss Tonks would not have to marry Percy in order to join your clan. We all seem to have overlooked that you two are also of age… possibly because you don't act it."

George pressed his lips together and looked like he was rapidly calculating exit strategies. "Right," Fred finally said, "we'll see you two lovebirds later."

Tonks made a vague strangling gesture and then sank back onto the filthy old carpet with a faint "ugh."

"Are you incapable of standing or is this some pathetic attempt at the melodramatic?"

_Like he should talk about the melodramatic_, Tonks sniffed to herself. "Oh no, it's just terribly comfortable." She blinked owlishly, just to annoy him further. "Probably safer, too. Bugger off, Snape."

"I am not in the habit of taking orders from witches who are lying on the floor."

She raised to her elbows and arched an eyebrow at him. "Fine, then you can just stand there and chat with me. Have you seen the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_?"

Tonks craned her neck to look up at Snape, then abruptly looked elsewhere when she realized her current position offered her a great view up his nose.

"Certainly," he answered. "I thought the article on using the Desideratum Potion in perfume in order to 'snare your wizard' was particularly appalling."

She was glad she'd turned away when she did, because she was certain about sixteen wildly conflicting emotions had just passed across her face.

"Of course, if your intended beau finds large chartreuse welts exceptionally stimulating…," Snape continued. Tonks rolled her eyes and got to her feet.

"So I'm guessing I shouldn't try that trick on our wedding night."

_That shut him up._ Tonks couldn't help grinning at his sudden silence. She knew that baiting the bloke right now was a potentially fatal move, but something about this situation left her with a bitter taste in her mouth and a longing for a nasty fight in a dark alley. It occurred to her that the ex-Death Eater might be happy to oblige.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "By all means, _do_."

Tonks licked her lips and stared back up at him. She could see his wand hand twitching, and she felt the thrill of adrenaline in her veins.

There were few people in the wizarding world who would knowingly intervene when an Auror and a Death Eater (however 'reformed' the latter might be) were so obviously sizing each other up for a fight. Unfortunately for the pair, Albus Dumbledore was not only one of the few, but he was also the type that could pull it off with an appearance of blithe obliviousness. "Ah! Severus, Tonks! You're both still here!"

"Unfortunately, Headmaster." Snape did not tear his eyes away from Tonks. She suspected that he was wary she would hex him. The feeling was entirely mutual, she reflected, matching his stare. "Did you require something?"

"Alastor reminded me we should discuss moving Miss Tonks to Hogwarts."

Snape was the first to break the staring match, but not by long. Tonks' head snapped to look at the headmaster so quickly that she thought for a moment she might have given herself whiplash. "You expect me to move in with him?"

"Given the details Severus has provided us of the… marital obligations, I believe cohabitation is rather necessary."

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus," Snape countered. "If Miss Tonks moves in to my chambers, my potions stores will be completely demolished within the week."

Moody took that moment to cough, which sounded suspiciously like "three days."

"And what about her career in the Ministry?" Snape continued smoothly. "Surely Hogsmeade to London is too far for her to Apparate daily."

Dumbledore favored Snape with a slightly remonstrative glance, and Tonks had the sudden urge to dive behind the nearest sturdy furniture. "I had considered that also, my boy, and realized that Miss Tonks' arrival coincides quite fortuitously with my need to fill the Defense Against the Dark Arts position yet again this year."

Instead of going ahead with her plan to hide behind the furniture, Tonks found herself rooted to the spot, her mouth gaping open. She hastily shut it, then opened it so words could come out. None did, so she shut it again.

For his part, Snape looked as though he was struggling to find words that were not hexes. "What… in Merlin's name… do you think qualifies her for that honor?"

Dumbledore smiled at his Potions master, and Tonks considered the furniture plan again. "She is an Auror, after all..."

Something flashed in the man's dark eyes, and his demeanor abruptly changed. He had seemed about one provocation short of apoplexy, but then his shoulders sank in defeat. He righted them almost instantly (in what appeared to be a gesture of resignation) and then looked the headmaster straight in the eye.

"Fine," he snarled. "We shall have to discuss this another time, however. At present I intend to locate the nearest pub and drink myself into oblivion."

Tonks looked between Snape and the two old meddlers. Given the evening's events, she suspected she'd be better off with the former Death Eater. Not that Mad-Eye was known to meddle, per se, but she suspected the old codger had nudged Dumbledore in order to get his flat back. And as for Dumbledore, she didn't doubt that if she stayed any longer, he'd have her conceding to all sorts of undesirable things - like children, for instance. "Hold your arse a moment, Snape - I'm coming with you."

"Haven't you had enough?" The glance assessing her was not cold, and that frightened the witch more than the possibility of him hexing her.

"Not nearly," she answered fervently.

Snape snorted and flung the door wide for her. "Come then."

Tonks trotted down the sidewalk in an ungainly attempt to keep up with the Potions master's long stride. _This is ridiculous_, she realized. She was an Auror - she bloody well did not trot like some adolescent. In a flash a confident grin she didn't quite feel was plastered across her face and she modified her stride to a loping gait.

"So, why'd you stick around?"

"Potter insisted on having a _word_ with me," he practically sneered.

"What about?" she pried, rather cheerfully attempting to piss the hell out of him.

"Are you _trying_ to irritate me?"

"Why yes," she answered unrepentantly. "I think I am."

"The boy wanted me to give a wand oath not to harm a spiky purple hair on your head," Snape answered shortly. "I am already regretting it."

Tonks chuckled slightly to herself. "If I turned it green would you consider nipping into that alley for a quick hex?"

Snape stopped short and she barely avoided colliding with him. As he looked down his nose at her, Tonks could have sworn he was seriously considering it, but then he looked away.

"I am tempted," he admitted. "Sorely tempted. Have you considered, however, that our engagement might look somewhat suspect if we were caught hexing each other in a dark alley not a week before its announcement?"

"That's foreplay for Aurors," she shot back, knowing that while her retort was purely to put Snape off, it was nevertheless true in some respects. The danger and adrenaline tended to have certain stimulant effects. She doubted it was much different for Death Eaters.

Snape looked decidedly uncomfortable with that thought. That brief showing of weakness was like a jolt of pure power for Tonks, and she pounced on it. "Pecker up, Professor, you're going to have to do a lot more than picture me starkers."

Snape seemed to have gotten the jist of what she said, and sneered, raking his eyes down her body in what was obviously an attempt to disgust her. _Interesting game of chicken we've got here_, Tonks observed while trying not to squirm. "You are mistaken if you believe I have not pictured you… 'starkers' as you say. I was the unwilling recipient of Mr. Weasley's lewd fantasies about you - though I must say he seems to have been somewhat… overgenerous."

"Percy?" Tonks repeated weakly, scowling at the sudden bad taste in her mouth. "Yech."

"Indeed. On that note, shall we resume our search for a pub?"

"Definitely," Tonks answered.

Moments later, she caught sight of the sign of a wizarding pub - the Erumpent's Horn. She quirked an eyebrow at Snape and he nodded shortly, so she led the way into the pub.

It certainly wasn't the Three Broomsticks, and although the barkeep seemed to be channeling Aberforth Dumbledore, it wasn't precisely the same crowd as the Hog's Head either. While some people - namely Tonks - could be described as being all elbows, this pub appeared to be all dark corners. The crowd was generally younger than the Hog's Head, and rougher than the Three Broomsticks. Broadly speaking, it was a place where both Tonks and Snape could blend in, although the Potions master was stretching it a bit.

That brought another fact to mind; she hadn't even considered whether it was safe for Snape to be here in public after nearly being killed by Voldemort. Surely he was wandering around with the wizarding equivalent of a giant target on his back.

"You shouldn't be out in public," she accused.

"Are you intent on nagging me before the wedding?" Snape asked with an amused stare. His calm response persuaded Tonks that he probably was not following in Sirius' footsteps. No doubt he was already aware of the potential danger and had been monitoring their surroundings. "Never fear: I have a big strong Auror to protect me."

"What'll it be?" the barkeep asked.

Snape looked appraisingly at Tonks. "A bottle of firewhisky and two glasses."

While Snape waited for the man to return, Tonks looked around for a free table. What she found instead was a table full of Hogwarts alumnae from about the same time she attended. She remembered most of them as being several years ahead of her, and was fairly certain they had been in Slytherin. She attempted to pass by them without them spotting her, but inevitably she tripped over the leg of a chair and very nearly landed in one bloke's lap. She recognized him immediately - Martins had failed out of her Auror class and taken a position in the Department of Magical Equipment Control. She had been glad to see him go.

After he recovered from the shock of recognition, a predatory smile oozed onto Martins' face. "I didn't know you liked this kind of place, Tonks." The slimy git wore snakeskin pants, she noted as he stood up.

She couldn't see any polite way of excusing herself - and really didn't feel the need to be polite anyway - so she settled with a cheery: "Bugger off, Martins, I'm here with someone."

Martins looked around disbelievingly. "I don't see anyone-" Tonks assumed from the sudden bugging of his eyes that Snape had located her. "Professor - are you? what are you doing here with…?"

"Discussing our wedding plans," Snape said coldly. Tonks very nearly sniggered. The man might be a right bastard, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate his scathing wit when it was turned against sots who deserved it. "I believe my fiancée suggested you bugger off?"

Martins' eyes still hadn't returned to their normal size, and he was beginning to look ill. "Gladly, Sir." A few moments later, Tonks watched his group gather their things and leave the pub entirely.

"Ah, a table!" she said in her best Dumbledore impression. Apparently it was decent enough for Snape to recognize, because he glowered at her briefly. Tonks snagged one of the chairs and collapsed into it with her usual lack of grace. Snape also seated himself and deftly swiped the bottle and both glasses before she could reach them. Tonks glared at him accusingly.

Snape merely smirked as he slid a well-filled glass across to her. "I have seven years experience watching your disturbing interaction with all things breakable, Miss Tonks. I actually want to ingest some of this before you manage to shatter the bottle and cover me with the contents."

They drank in silence for a while before Snape set his glass down with a clunk. "Are you quite certain there is no one else you could possibly beg, wheedle or blackmail to marry you, Miss Tonks?"

"You just sent away a whole table of cold-blooded young candidates," she shot back. Her recent lack of romantic relationships wasn't something she liked admitting to Snape, of all people.

"Please do not distract yourself with weak attempts at humor and attempt to answer the question."

For a moment, it was almost as if the glass in front of her was a cauldron, and Snape was quizzing her about some potion's properties. _Now that's a healthy relationship to have with your future husband…._ "No, sir, there is no one I can think of," she said belligerently.

"Are you attracted to women, Miss Tonks?"

"Are _you_, sir?" she countered.

"Why is it then that you have not formed any relationships?"

Tonks set down her glass. "I'm an Auror, Snape."

In his defense, Snape looked as if he was actually trying to understand her. "Aside from the very good chance you'll end up dead or looking like Moody, I don't see what deterrent effect that has on your love life."

"Would you have gotten involved with me in your younger days?" she asked.

"I am trying not to get involved with you now." He rolled his eyes at her insistent look. "I was a _Death Eater_, Miss Tonks."

"Everyone's got something to hide," she explained, "and that's all they can think about when they're around me. You wouldn't _believe_ the things people tell me about themselves when they've had a bit to drink."

Snape looked as though he finally understood her predicament. "I shan't be confessing my sins over my cups tonight."

"I bloody well hope not," Tonks returned. She had no desire to hear what things burdened Snape's conscience.

Snape looked down at his long-fingered hands. "So I'm stuck with you…."

"Looks like it," Tonks returned. They both took a good long drink.

"You're being remarkably civil about it, sir," Tonks said. "Taking me out for a drink and all."

Snape ran a hand through his greasy hair. Tonks briefly noted that that was something she'd have to address eventually. "When it comes down to it, Miss Tonks, I would rather dicker out the terms with you than have Albus determine them. And I would much rather it be done in the presence of a great deal of alcohol."

"The 'terms'?" Tonks repeated.

"What we can offer each other to make this ridiculous situation more bearable."

Tonks snorted derisively. "There's nothing you can say that will make this situation any better."

Snape raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Contraceptives."

"I can get those at the nearest Boots," she said, shrugging.

"Not if you're bound," Snape corrected.

She half-rose from her chair in alarm. "You're not going to-"

Snape held up a hand. "I will be requesting you remain unbound."

Tonks plunked herself back down onto her seat. "Why?"

"Do you _want_ to be bound?"

Tonks felt herself getting angry with the Potions master despite the alcohol's typical soporific effects on her. "Of course I don't. I want to know why you don't."

"Is it your habit to look gift horses in the mouth?" Snape asked. She wondered briefly if the alcohol brought out his inner Socratic.

"I think my flat mate would consider it 'constant vigilance'," she returned.

Snape snorted into his drink. "Utter paranoia, you mean."

"Not where you're concerned, sir."

"Considering the situation we find ourselves in, I think we can safely drop the titles, Miss, err…Nympha-"

"_Don't_ call me Nymphadora."

"Well, clearly I cannot refer to you as 'Tonks' if we are married, as you will be Mrs. Snape."

"Technically, it'd be Professor Snape," she reminded him.

He glowered briefly. "Don't you think that might get a tad bit confusing?"

Tonks fought to keep the smirk off of her face. "I could always keep my own name - to avoid confusion."

"It might be best," Snape conceded. "Although it would have almost been worth it to see Potter's face when he found out that his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was none other than Professor Snape."

She laughed in spite of herself. "You have a queer sense of humor sometimes, Snape."

"That has been mentioned to me before."

"I'm sure. By the way, you almost managed to throw me off back there, but I want to know - why no binding?"

"Obviously Albus would never let me."

Tonks raised her eyebrows at him.

"Is that actually an inquisition tactic of yours?"

She folded her arms and continued to stare at him. "I know you're lying."

"Ah, yes, now that's an effective approach," he scoffed. "It feels very much like being attacked by a damp tissue."

Tonks refused to be fazed by the insult. "Betcha it might get annoying after a few years..."

"I highly doubt our fiasco of a marriage will continue _that_ long."

"You still haven't answered my question."

Snape set his empty glass down on the table and leaned forward to look into her eyes. "Miss Tonks, I find you irritating enough when you are acting in your right mind. If you were bound to me, I would shortly feel the need to either lock you away or silence you permanently."

Tonks nodded and stared down at his glass. The idea of Snape not binding her in the interests of self-preservation made much more sense than any of the suggestions of altruism he had been feeding her. "Cheers," she said by way of thanks.

"Finish your glass so I can refill it," Snape ordered.

Surprisingly enough, Tonks obeyed.

Several hours later, they settled up tab and stumbled out of the closing bar. Well, to be fair, Tonks stumbled and Snape practically glided. If anything, he had gotten more graceful. She glared at him accusingly.

"What now?" he demanded, though it lacked some of his trademark barb.

"How d'you still walk like that?"

Snape shrugged. "I just do."

"I can't."

"I'm shocked."

"Shut yer gob," she muttered.

"I have no idea what you're saying when you devolve into Muggle," Snape scolded.

"Cor," she drawled sarcastically, "blow me!"

"Stop that."

Tonks grinned at him. "Which way, then?"

Snape squinted. "Well, there's certainly no way I'm allowing you to Apparate back to your flat on your own."

"You're not Apparating either," she said, poking him in the chest with one finger.

"I'm perfectly fine," he insisted.

Tonks shook her head, and then decided she probably shouldn't do that anymore if she wanted to keep the contents of her stomach on the inside. "Nuh-uh. You're completely knackered, and piss-drunk to boot. And I'm an Auror and I say you can't Apparate."

"I have no intention of returning to Grimmauld Place tonight."

"You can crash at my flat," Tonks suggested, swaying slightly on her feet.

If it was testament to Tonks' level of intoxication that she made the suggestion, it was proof positive of Snape's that he actually considered it. "Isn't your flat across the bloody city?"

"Take the tube," she said succinctly.

"The what?"

"Tube. Bloody train thing. Underground."

"That thing Albus has a map of on his knee?"

"Dumbledore's got a tattoo?" Tonks experienced a renewal of esteem for the bloke. "Wicked."

"No," Snape corrected. "Scar."

"Oh. Still... must be right handy."

"Do you really want the headmaster lifting up his robe to give you directions?"

Tonks thought about that for a second too long, and decided it was time for a change of topic. "Speaking of robes, we need to transfigure yours into Muggle clothing."

Snape jumped back when she drew her wand. "A simple Dissimulus charm will work quite effectively, and I am capable of performing it for myself, thank you."

"Don't trust me?" Tonks taunted.

"On the contrary, I have a great deal of faith in your ability to make even the simplest spells go horribly awry."

Tonks stuck out her tongue at him.

"An excellent comeback if I ever heard one. Shall we find this tube of yours?"

"It's right there," Tonks said, pointing to the prominent Underground sign.

Snape was not the kind of man to let the world know when he was out of his league, Tonks noticed. He hadn't committed a single gaff yet, and given the exploits of the purebloods she knew, that was a major feat. She had it on good evidence from a senior Auror that Moody once hexed an escalator, and the first time she had taken Arthur Weasley on one the silly man had thanked it. By the prickling sensation on the back of her neck, she figured the Snape was carefully mimicking what he saw her do. _Better than I would've figured_. He still looked like an overgrown bat, but at least she didn't have to worry about calling in the Department of Magical Attacks and Catastrophes.

"Holding up?" she craned her head back to ask.

She heard a muffled groan.

"Know how you feel. One more to go. Then there's the train, of course."

Tonks blamed her lowered inhibitions for her inability to restrain herself from calling a chipper "mind the gap" to Snape as they boarded the Piccadilly line car. She chose to ignore his glower as he sat beside her.

"Our stop's South Kensington. Might as well sit back and try not to puke till then."

Snape was either not feeling well or was trying to keep a low profile as a Muggle, because he didn't speak to her the rest of the way back. Tonks sighed and let her head rest against the window. If this was a preview of what the rest of her life with Snape was going to be like, she was destined to either become an alcoholic or throw her lot in with Voldemort in hopes that he'd make her a widow.

_Definitely drank too much_, Tonks reflected as each jolt of the car triggered another wave of nausea. She closed her eyes in the hope that it would cut back on the motion sickness.

When her eyes fluttered open again, she thought she caught a glimpse of a white face through the window. She blinked, and the face was gone. _Git must've slipped me a hallucinogen._

"We're approaching the stop," Snape said, nudging her.

"Shouldn't've let me sleep," she muttered as they stumbled up the escalator.

"How else was I to get a moment's peace?" Snape asked. Tonks thought she caught a trace of a slur in his carefully enunciated words.

"Piss off."

The short walk home was mostly silent, punctuated by brief, incoherent volleys of insults. Tonks had quite a time tapping in the proper code on her door and disarming the wards, but she managed to get it right before Snape throttled her.

The lights were out in the flat, and Tonks stepped inside cautiously.

"What precisely are you searching for behind the sofa?"

She put a finger to her lips. "Shh…. Moody. Don't want him to jump out and hex me."

"From behind the sofa?"

Tonks nodded. "Ok. S'all clear. _Lumos_."

Snape was blinking furiously in the sudden light. "Merlin… where do you keep your Soberup potions?"

"Don't have any."

"How can you not have a single Soberup potion?" he asked incredulously.

"Shh!" Tonks gestured for him to keep his voice down. The last thing they needed was to wake Moody. "Mad-Eye doesn't need 'em and I don't drink that much."

"I don't suppose you have any dried shrivelfig? Armadillo bile?"

Tonks just looked at him blankly. She walked into the kitchen and returned moments later with a glass.

Snape peered into it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Water." She rolled her eyes at his expression. "Still, not sparkling. Lukewarm, not cold. Drink it or I'll hex you." She pulled a few blankets out of a chest and tossed them on the couch. "You can sleep there. Bathroom's on the right. We don't have any house elves and I do not make an adequate replacement." She looked at Snape briefly to make sure he took in all the information, then pivoted and wobbled off into her bedroom. "I'm going to pass out now. Goodnight."

* * *

Notes:  
Yes, this is a few days late - but double the length I expected it to be. I figure it evens out in the end. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter.

Also: I'll admit to "borrowing" from a movie and a book in this chapter (not including HP). House points go out to anyone who catches the references.

British - American Translations  
(I don't generally provide translations, but here are some of the more obscure or easily misinterpreted words and phrases)

Pecker up- short for "keep your pecker up" (keep your chin up)  
Boots- the name of a particularly ubiquitous drugstore.  
Shut your gob- shut your mouth (shut up)  
Cor- (expression of surprise, occasionally paired with "Blimey!")  
Blow me!- shortened from "you could blow me over (with a feather)" Again, surprise.  
Knackered- exhausted  
Piss/bugger off- go away


	7. Six

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a person going to bed completely sloshed out of her mind must invariably wake up to an obscenely bright morning - even in London. After blinking groggily and muttering an incoherent stream of curses, Tonks rolled over and pulled the duvet cover over her head. _Bugger, my head hurts._

Half a heartbeat later, she tumbled completely out of bed and narrowly avoided a collision with her wardrobe.

"Snape'sonthesofa!"

She threw on her oversized dressing gown and then suddenly halted at the door, rocking back on her heels as disjointed fragments of the past day's events started to piece themselves together into a very ugly picture of her likely future. "Bloody hell."

A sinking feeling pooling in her stomach, Tonks cracked open the door and peered out. She couldn't see anyone; however, the sound of great, tearing snores told her that not only was the Potions master still in residence, but also that he probably had some untreated sinus problems. Tonks hastily shut the door. She really wasn't ready to wake him yet - not with her head feeling like it was housing a flock of angry hippogriffs.

And so the Auror did something completely uncharacteristic: she sat down on the edge of her bed and bit her lip. After a few moments spent staring at the door in abject dread, she decided that she'd really better try putting her head between her knees. Breathing, she considered, might also be a good plan.

_I need tea._ Tonks snorted at the intruding thought, and her immediate reaction to it. Even the mention of her addiction had a half-smile of longing tugging at the corner of her mouth, and despite the bleak situation, a warm, fuzzy feeling was starting to do battle with her angst.

_D'you want to go whinging to Dumbledore that Snape's too much for you to handle?_ she asked herself. _D'you want to admit that to the bugger on the sofa himself? Really, it's not that bad. Could be worse._ Tonks scratched the side of her nose thoughtfully. _Might even be fun, in a twisted sort of way. Like a sleepover with the git of the month. Think of it as advanced training. _

Easing the door open once again, the Auror sighed in relief when Snape didn't so much as twitch. She couldn't resist smiling to herself at the sight of him; he looked so helpless lying there that it was all she could do not to grab a bowl of warm water and some shaving cream.

The sound of chimes brought her out of her musings, and her wand was out before she registered that it was the doorbell. The sound reverberated painfully in her skull as she walked to the door. She did not put her wand away. A quick glance at the clock told her it was not quite seven in the morning - too early for normal callers, not that she or Moody generally got _any_ callers, normal or otherwise. The chances of one of Moody's former nemeses paying a visit at this hour was also rather low, so Tonks was betting it was either Dumbledore wondering where he'd mislaid his Potions master, or….

"Percy. It's quarter to seven in the…," Tonks struggled to spit out one of the host of curses that were offering their services and settled with snarling out: "morning!" It took her a moment to realize that the prat was rather lower than usual. "What are you doing down there?" Further inspection revealed that Percy also seemed unusually flushed and uncomfortable-looking. "Did you bang up your knee?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Er… no. I realize that this is an unconventional…. What I mean is that… Dearest Nymphadora."

Tonks prodded him with the toe of one foot. "Spit it out, man."

"Please-do-me-the-honor-of-making-me-the-happiest-wizard-ever-and-marry-me, Nymphadora," Percy somehow managed to blurt out in one breath.

Tonks found herself having to gulp down her rising bile, although whether it was due to the proposal or her hangover catching up with her, she couldn't quite tell. As she stood there, squinting into the early morning sunlight, her recently abused mind refused to come up with a response.

Percy cleared his throat again, this time expectantly.

Tonks bit the inside of her cheek to hide the smile quirking at corners of her mouth and blinked innocently. "Bugger. Wish you'd told me about this sooner… y'see only yesterday I agreed to marry Professor Snape."

Percy looked like he had been hit with a slug-vomiting curse. "Snape?"

"Oh yes!" It was much too early in the morning for Tonks to resist rubbing it in a little. "D'you know I fancied him when I was at Hogwarts? I used to sit there in Potions classes just perving over him instead of following the lesson. Guess I've always been attracted to the tall, dark and broody type. And just between you and me, he's hung like a mountain troll…"

She noted with pleasure that Percy still seemed to be reeling in shock. _Merlin, no wonder Snape likes this so much - it's almost better than hexing._ "But… but you're not wearing a ring…."

_Trust Percy to latch onto that inane detail._ Tonks was about to pull some excuse out of her arse when she saw Percy's eyes bulge out further.

"I have yet to pry it from my mother's cold, dead hand, Weasley." Tonks looked over her shoulder to witness one of the most hideously disturbing sights in her life: Snape with bedroom hair, _smiling_ at her. It was not a _nice_ smile - she doubted there was such a thing in his repertoire - but it oozed a sort of self-satisfied possessiveness that could pass for lust amongst slimy git circles. Tonks' stomach redoubled its tumbling exercises.

Snape fitted himself behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. Tonks suddenly had the sensation of every inch of her flesh crawling. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to shag my fiancée senseless before work. Good day, Weasley."

Percy's face had blanched from red to white, and it was starting to take on a sickly greenish hue. "C-congratulations," he managed to stutter out before he turned and fled.

The instant the door closed, Tonks and Snape sprang apart like repelled magnets. Snape's face had slid back into a sneer by the time Tonks turned to confront him.

Tonks closed her eyes. "Don't know about you, but I'm too hung over to do the insulting thing now. How about we assume you've made a nasty comment or two about my acting abilities and move on to the part where I get tea?"

Snape nodded shortly. "Where's your - "

"Through there." Tonks pointed to the doorway on her left.

Just as the bathroom door clicked shut, the door to Moody's bedroom creaked open and the old Auror poked his head out. "Do you need me to throw Snape out on his ear?"

Tonks smiled wryly. "Nah. Want me to throw him out?"

Moody shook his head. "No need. I'm off to Bath. Young Malfoy went to that Death Eater stronghold we've been trying to find. Didn't know where he Apparated to, though. Said it was somewhere around this part of the country and below the ground. Some old Muggle place."

"Bath?" Tonks asked.

"Arthur said the Muggles built the whole city a floor above ground level, and something about the kind of mystical mumbo-jumbo that would attract You-Know-Who."

"That's a little vague."

Moody shrugged. "I stopped listening."

Tonks grinned at him, then winced at the not-quite-muffled sound of Snape being sick. "Have fun."

Moody spared a glance at the bathroom door. "I suppose there's no use wishing you the same."

"Not really," Tonks said, although the smile didn't leave her face until after Moody left.

Rubbing a sore spot on the side of her neck, Tonks turned back to the kitchen and put the kettle on the hob. She figured toast might be an option if the tea managed to settle their stomachs enough, so she popped two slices in the toaster as well. She was just breaking off a chunk of her best pu-erh special blend into its teapot when she heard the bathroom door open.

"Better?" she called.

"Hardly," Snape grumbled. "What is that?"

"Tea."

"Are you certain?"

Tonks turned and scowled at him. "Yes. Sit over there and shut up."

"If you manage to poison me, you will still have to find yourself another husband."

Tonks poured off the first infusion and refilled the dark purple clay pot with boiling water. "I'd already thought of that."

Snape's eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched up slightly as he regarded the cup of dark tea she'd poured him. "It smells like musty books."

Tonks took a deep sip of hers. "I always thought it smelled like the wood after a rain. Kinda nice. Drink it before I hex you."

They drank in silence for a while, and Tonks felt her irritation slowly abating as her stomach settled. She looked over and noticed that Snape had slightly more color in his face as well, although for Snape, "slightly more color" meant that his skin was now the color of freshly powdered parchment.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Won't you be late for work?"

"I start at nine. Tea worked, didn't it?"

"You should give notice today."

"You're telling me things I already know again."

Snape set his teacup down and pushed it forward with his fingertips before opening his mouth to say something.

He was interrupted by a tapping at the door.

"It's Paddington bloody Station in here today," Tonks muttered as she went to open the door. Two startled owls stared at her after she wrenched the door open. After taking one look at her, they dropped her mail at her feet and flew away.

She was not surprised to see that the Daily Prophet's headline was: "Ministry Announces Marriage Programme," but the letterhead on the letter in her left hand was enough to make her stomach queasy again. Ignoring Snape's presence, she dropped the paper and ripped open the letter.

_To the future Mr. and Mrs. Snape:_

_We at the Ministry are delighted to hear of your impending nuptials. You have no doubt read in your copy of the Daily Prophet the Ministry's announcement of our own exciting news. You should be aware that the Marriage Act is effective as of six-thirty AM this morning and therefore your union would fall under it. Indeed, you are the first couple listed in our registry - congratulations! We should like to discuss the effect of the new regulations with you later this week. Please make an appointment through my secretary Ernestine Hibbins in the new Matrimonial Planning Office (level three of Ministry of Magic Headquarters) at your earliest convenience._

_Thank you and congratulations again!_

_Josephus Elkins  
Head of Matrimonial Planning_

Tonks barely restrained herself from tearing the parchment to shreds, and instead strode angrily into the kitchen. "I want an _enormous_ wedding, Snape… I want to have a dozen photographers and reporters covering it, and I want to invite half the Ministry."

Snape looked like he was about to be sick again. "And every Weasley, too, I suppose."

"I was thinking of having the twins cater," Tonks confirmed.

Snape choked on his tea. Then, very slowly, he turned his head to regard the metamorphmagus. She was grinning at him.

"When you said before you intended to invite half the Ministry, you meant of course…"

"Every single wanker that had anything to do with this law," Tonks confirmed with false cheerfulness. She shoved the letter and the paper at him and then gulped down another cup of tea while she waited for him to finish reading.

A vicious smile was playing at the corner of his lips when he looked up at her. "In celebration of the first marriage under this law of theirs… a gala event. Would that prove too many people for the twins to prepare for?"

"You could always offer them a hand," Tonks suggested. "Maybe you could cover the beverages?"

"Indeed." It was a strange thing, but the cold, calculating glimmer that she had come to associate with Snape in spy mode showed for the first time since he was revealed. Oddly enough, he seemed to be looking forward to his impending marriage - or at least the ceremony. "Set up an appointment with this Higgins woman today."

Tonks narrowed her eyes. "I really think that's more of a job for my overbearing pureblooded fiancée, don't you? You know, the one who has a great deal of free time on his hands now that it's summer break?"

"Fine," Snape snapped. "I'll speak with Higgins -"

"Hibbins," Tonks corrected.

"You set up a meeting with the Weasley twins."

"Fine," Tonks agreed.

"When are you free to meet?"

"Lunch time or after five," Tonks said before she remembered she was talking about meeting with Ministry people. "Just set up the Ministry appointment for whenever and I'll hop upstairs for however long it takes. What about you – when do you want to meet the Weasleys?"

"Tomorrow evening would be best," Snape said.

Tonks nodded and drained her tea. She watched as the tiny flecks of leaves swirled and settled on the bottom of the cup. "Wonder what Trelawney would say about these?"

"Our doom approaches…"

"Wouldn't be so far off," Tonks said morosely.

"…in the form of a bugbear with a psoriasis problem."

Tonks snorted in spite of herself.

"Miss… Tonks, if it comes down to that, I have plenty of potions to - "

Her eyes flashed up to meet his. "No. That's not what I… no potions." She spared him an apologetic half-smile. "I've got to get ready for work now."

Snape nodded. "I'll see myself out. But don't dismiss the idea of potions so quickly. In certain situations you are going to have to appear to be besotted with me." He extended a hand towards her and Tonks unconsciously shrank away. "Can you mask your revulsion at my touch? I could brew a mild draught…"

Tonks' eyes widened. "I'll think about it," she promised, deliberately leaving her answer vague. She had already ruled out the use of potions, but she would have to consider his point about the revulsion. Really, it wasn't nice of her to shrink away so obviously. How could it not hurt his feelings? It wasn't as if she could help it; he was _Snape_ after all. He was about as cuddly as a basilisk.

Tonks looked up again to see him at the door. "Wait," she called. Snape turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you have such a hard time calling me Tonks? You call everyone else by their last name."

There was almost a Dumbledorish twinkle in his dark eyes. "Because you took to it with such enthusiasm."

"You won't call me it because I like it?" Tonks said incredulously. She laughed outright at the lengths the man went through to be contrary. "Get out now."

"As you wish." Snape smirked at her one last time before shutting the door. She heard him Apparate away a moment later.

Tonks took a moment to shake her head and roll her eyes before turning and getting ready for what would surely be an interesting day at the office.

_"I got engaged to Snape. How was your weekend?"_

* * *

Authnote: Hey! Sorry for the delay; computer problems put me very far behind. 

Last chapter's quotes were the "it's terribly comfortable" line - that's borrowed from The Princess Bride - and the bit about "feels like being attacked by a damp tissue" is from Terry Pratchett.

No translations in this chapter. A "bugbear," however is a scary imaginary creature. See the Harry Potter Lexicon for more info.

Also, many thanks to Andromeda for her Britpicking!


	8. Seven

Hey all. Sorry for the long update time. RL intervened for both me and my lovely britpicker. (For those who've expressed concern, I'm fine. It was a bit scary, but when it comes down to it, I'm MUCH scarier than your average would-be stalker. I enjoy writing Snape for a reason...)

* * *

SEVEN: 

"Well," Amelia Bones finally allowed, "this is unexpected." She glanced over Tonks' letter of resignation again. Setting it aside, she folded her hands on her desk and favoured Tonks with a searching gaze.

Tonks rocked forward slightly onto her toes. Years of experience had taught her that the best way to make it through experiences like being interrogated by Madam Bones was to keep her expression glum and her eyes focused on a point slightly above the department head's left ear – and certainly not on the woman's monocle.

"Married, you say?"

"Yes ma'am."

"That seems rather sudden."

Tonks nodded in wholehearted agreement.

"And your fiancé insists that you resign your position here?"

Tonks had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from being overwhelmed by a sudden wave of giddiness. "Yes ma'am. You see we're subject to this new marriage law thing and, according to the restrictions, we really need to live together. He has to stay at Hogwarts and at night, and with my splinching record, well… you can understand. Erm, also, he expressed a concern about not wanting me to end up looking like Mad-Eye Moody – ma'am."

"He works at Hogwarts? Would I know of him?"

Tonks bit down harder before allowing herself to speak. "Possibly, ma'am. He's Severus Snape."

Madam Bones, like Snape and many others Tonks knew had been affected by the war, was marked by a certain inscrutability of expression - but when the woman heard that Tonks was marrying Snape, the monocle dropped. After replacing the offending eyewear, Madam Bones sat back in her chair.

"You are familiar with his record, of course."

Tonks once again found herself nodding.

"He is hardly a pleasant man."

Tonks didn't quite manage to hide her amusement at that understatement. "I'm familiar with that, too."

The grim woman nodded shortly and rose to her feet. The corners of her mouth flexed in what Tonks had come to suspect was an attempt at a reassuring smile. "Very well, I will accept your resignation. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement regrets the loss of your services and wishes you well in whatever you endeavour to undertake."

Tonks took her hand and shook it. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll be getting back to work, now." She had nearly managed to make it out of Madam Bones' office when she heard the witch call to her.

"Tonks?"

Tonks bit her lip and turned. She had a feeling her expression was the kind you'd find on a six year-old who was hoping you wouldn't ask him where all the chocolate frogs went.

"Dare I ask?"

Tonks shook her head. "Believe me, you don't want to know…."

* * *

Tonks scratched her nose with the quill. The owl perched on the wall of her cubicle hooted reproachfully. 

"It's not _your_ feather." She turned her attention back to the letter.

**Fred & George:**

**Meet with me and Snape tomorrow night. We find ourselves needing mayhem and finger snacks; figured you were the blokes to talk to.**

**Tonks**

"Done." Tonks handed the letter to the balefully staring owl. "Take this to Fred or George Weasley – no, we can't tell them apart, either. Oh, and just a bit of advice: don't eat anything they give you."

Just after midmorning, the owl returned, looking irate. "What ruffled your feathers?" Tonks asked. The owl tried to take a bite out of her as she took the reply letter and practically turned its beak up at the Knut she offered it.

"Wait a moment," Tonks asked it as she scanned the letter for hexes and interesting charms. After she was fairly certain she'd disarmed them all, she opened the envelope and unfolded the impressive-looking stationary.

**Tonks,**

**Mayhem and finger snacks? You officially have the ears (extendable and otherwise) of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Is this a Hog's Head or Honeydukes-type operation? What time? Should we bring samples of our merchandise?**

**Fred Weasley  
George Weasley  
Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes  
93 Diagon Alley**

The owl was looking progressively more impatient, so Tonks scrawled out a quick reply.

**Gred & Forge:**

**Definitely a Hog's Head-type operation. Meet us at Honeydukes at seven? No samples, please - we're trying not to attract attention.**

**Tonks**

She was finishing her lunch when a disgruntled-looking blue parrot appeared with another letter. She couldn't help smirking at it.

"I _told_ you not to eat what they gave you. Give it here; lets see what the little buggers say this time."

**Tomorrow at seven it is. We'll be looking for the woman with the bat.**

**Fred Weasley  
George Weasley  
Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes  
93 Diagon Alley**

Tonks slipped the parrot a Sickle for its trouble. "You'll probably be wanting the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, now. Level Three."

* * *

Tonks had never quite figured out what possessed her superiors not only to allow but also provide a water cooler in the department, but, frankly, she blamed Arthur Weasley. 

The buzz from the water cooler was usually just audible from Tonks' cubicle. Today it was probably just audible from the Unspeakables' department on Level Nine. Tonks tried to cover her ears as another round of "Snape? You're kidding!" started off.

By mid-afternoon, she had been confronted by no less than half the department. Kent Westbrook, the Department's poison and mind-altering substances expert, was in the process of giving her an impromptu examination to assure the rest of the department that Snape wasn't controlling her through the use of potions when the parrot swooped in and dropped yet another letter in her lap. Tonks waited until after Westbrook pronounced her mentally competent and the crowd dispersed to open the letter.

**Come to Hogwarts as soon as you leave work tonight. We have much to discuss. Please retrieve the jar of powdered pearl I have ordered at Slug & Jiggers Apothecary.**

**S.**

After reading over the letter twice, Tonks set it down and stared at the clippings of known Death Eaters posted on her cubicle walls. Many of them had been Snape's friends - his confederates. Men he'd betrayed, of course, but still….

_How many drafts d'you think it took before he worked himself up to adding the word "please"?_

A bald head peering over her cubicle wall interrupted her musings. "Avery's been sighted in Diagon Alley," Kingsley Shacklebolt rumbled out in his crack-of-doom baritone.

Tonks was on her feet in less than half a second. She righted herself and was back on her feet again a moment later. "You mean Knockturn Alley?"

Shacklebolt shook his head. "Diagon Alley. You coming?"

* * *

Thanks to a tip from Florean Fortescue, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt finally spotted Avery entering the apothecary shop. Tonks rolled her eyes and then nodded at Kingsley. 

Wands discretely ready, they entered the shop together. Kingsley pretended to examine the supply of dried cockroaches while he eavesdropped on Avery and the shopkeeper. Tonks sidled up to the only other customers in the shop: a woman and her son who were so engrossed in discussing the benefits of the higher-priced cauldrons that they didn't notice her attempts to catch their attention.

"It won't help, you know," she said casually.

"Sorry?" the woman asked.

"No matter what kind of cauldron you buy or how much you pay for it, the potions that come out of it are still going to be the most abysmal attempts at brewing that Snape's ever had the misfortune to see."

The woman peered down her nose at Tonks and the boy shifted uncomfortably. _Definitely a Hufflepuff_, Tonks decided. _Snape's going to terrify him._ "How would you know?"

"Former student, current fiancée," Tonks said with a chipper grin. Sotto voce, she added, "and an Auror in the line of duty. Please leave the shop immediately."

Once the tinkling bell signalled that the pair had left the shop, Tonks nodded to Kingsley.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Petrificus totalus!"

Glass jars filled with precious potions ingredients exploded and toppled from the shelves as Avery scrambled out of the way. A moment later, shooting orange lights announced to them that Avery had found his wand, and now they were facing an armed, cornered Death Eater with a penchant for Blasting Curses.

It was at that unfortunate moment that the owl-turned-parrot finally managed to track Tonks down, and it dropped a smoking red letter at her feet. Tonks stared in horror as the letter burst into flames. As Tonks dove to one side and fired a counter-curse at Avery, Andromeda Tonks' voice began to shrilly berate her daughter.

**NYMPHADORA TONKS!**

**YOU DON'T WRITE TO US OR FLOO US FOR WEEKS AND THEN WE HEAR FROM MRS. BANDRY, WHO HEARD IT FROM MR. IBISTER IN THE MINISTRY THAT YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED! TO SEVERUS SNAPE! WHAT COULD YOU BE THINKING? **

Avery paused mid-hex when Andromeda Tonks' letter mentioned Snape, but before Tonks and Kingsley could take advantage of his momentary distraction, he had recovered. Tonks swore when she felt Avery's slicing hex graze her shoulder and shatter the glass jars above her. Broken glass and potions ingredients rained down on her as her mother's Howler continued.

**YOUR FATHER WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU'VE GIVEN YOURSELF ANOTHER CONCUSSION. I WANT TO SEE YOU IN PERSON TO BE CERTAIN THAT HE HASN'T DRUGGED YOU OR PUT YOU UNDER THE IMPERIUS CURSE! **

After muttering a quick spell to staunch the bleeding, Tonks launched another assault on the potions display Avery was hiding behind. She watched in horror as Kingsley Shacklebolt narrowly avoided being trapped under a display that buckled and collapsed from the force of the hexes being thrown.

**In all seriousness, Nymphadora, that man is not to be trusted. He is vicious, manipulative and old enough to be your father. If that isn't enough, I've always suspected he was somehow associated with You-Know-Who.**

"Not up on the latest gossip, is she?" Tonks heard Avery bite out between curses. In response, Tonks purposefully levitated and dropped a carton of Mongolian weedbat guano on the man. She smiled grimly as he stopped throwing curses and began to cough.

**This isn't a response to the ridiculous marriage law we read about in the paper, is it? Honestly, dear, there are better men out there. There's always Willy Wood…**

**Love,  
Mum**

Kingsley threw a brilliant stunning hex on top of Tonks' disarming spell, and amongst the mushroom cloud of bat dung that rose from behind the display they saw Avery's wand shoot up and land in a beaker of yellow slime. The wand began to sizzle and pop as the Aurors gingerly rose to their feet and proceeded to take the unconscious Death Eater into custody. Tonks was forced to clench her teeth in order to endure the queasy pain in her right knee, and she gave the unconscious man an extra kick in the ribs.

**P.s. If you insist on going through with this marriage, you should stop by and introduce your fiancé to Grandma & Grandpa Tonks - or else you'll never hear the end of it. **

Tonks sighed in relief as the letter shredded itself to pieces and was lost amongst the debris from their fight.

Only then did the shopkeeper poke his head out from behind the counter to survey the impressive amount of destruction that the trio had wrought in just a few short minutes. His eyes bugged out and he started to shake uncontrollably. "You've ruined my shop!"

"I'm sure a couple of householdy spells will fix 'er right up," Tonks said.

"The Ministry Cleanup and Recompensation Squad will be by soon to draw up a report and compensate you accordingly," Kinglsey told the man. "We are sorry for the trouble."

Tonks watched in amazement as the man's lips turned white and livid red spots stood out on his cheeks. "Thousands of galleons of inventory lost! I'll tell the Prophet! I'll call the Minister of Magic himself!"

Tonks looked over at Shacklebolt. "What's the sentence for consorting with a known Death Eater again?"

"Three years in Azkaban," Kingsley answered immediately, a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"They should tack on an extra three for doing it in broad daylight!" Tonks muttered. "Honestly, man, it's people like you that…"

Tonks would give the shopkeeper this much: he knew when an avenue was coming to a dead end. Abruptly he switched his tactics. "He had me under the Imperius Curse!"

She blinked disbelievingly. "But you got better?" she supplied.

The man nodded enthusiastically, his blatant disingenuousness bordering on the ridiculous. "I overcame it during the fight."

Kingsley clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man. If everyone around here had bollocks like yours we'd have these Death Eaters kicked in no time."

The shopkeeper wore the expression of someone who suspects he's been roundly beaten and in a game he wasn't aware of playing. "Thank you."

"Well, then," Kingsley said, an elusive hint of malice in his rich voice.

"Well, then," the shopkeeper repeated, wringing his hands nervously. "I'll just get started with the cleaning."

"You do that," Tonks said, hefting Avery's unconscious body up with a levitation spell. She got to the door before remembering the note in her pocket. The shopkeeper flinched as she limped back to the counter. "While I'm here, you don't happen to have a jar of powdered pearl for Professor Snape, do you?"

* * *

Many thanks to my wonderful and charming Brit-picker, Andromeda. 

Also, if you enjoy this story and you're looking for something completely different (or if you **didn't** enoy this story and you're looking for something completely different) go read Verity Brown's "A Merciless Affection." I'm notoriously squeamish about ss/oc and ss/student fics, but this one truly is masterful. Read it.

Finally, I'd just like to let you folks know that the good reviewers at Occlumency are kicking your butts on a hit/review basis. To the people who have me on their favorites and alerts that I've never heard from: Drop me a line! I want to hear what you think!

I've already got five pages written of the next chapter. Looks like it'll be a long one.


	9. Eight

The funny thing, Tonks thought, was that she found she didn't really mind the idea of Apparating all the way to Hogwarts to hang out with Snape in his dungeon. It was almost as if the sheer horribleness of her day made any of Snape's usual scathing attacks seem like nothing more than verbal pinpricks. Upon further contemplation, it occurred to her that she was actually _looking forward_ to seeing Snape, if for no other reason than that she could safely lay into him and work out the day's frustrations. A few more days like this, she considered, and they might actually be able to make a marriage really work.

By the time she finally bypassed a solicitous Minerva McGonagall and hobbled her way into the Hogwarts dungeons, it was well past dark. The door to the Potions classroom was closed, so Tonks rested her head against the timeworn wood and used her forehead as a doorknocker. "Open up, Snape."

A moment later, the door was wrenched open, nearly sending Tonks flying off-balance into the arms of the black-robed man. She caught herself on the doorframe and choked back an oath as the thin scab on her injured shoulder re-opened. Her vision wavered and then refocused around a pallid, smirking face. "Was my big strong Auror fiancée incapable of opening her own door?" Snape mocked with feigned solicitousness.

Tonks squinted, trying to reconcile the many faces of Snape swimming before her. If she'd had more energy she would have glared at him – provided she could figure out which was the git himself. "Shut up."

One of Snape's eyebrows arched up as he took in the full extent of her bloodied and disheveled appearance. "My, my… have you finally managed to break the non-fatal splinching record?"

Tonks snorted. "Piss off, Snape. Your friend Avery nearly got a piece of me today, and then my mother found out about our engagement. She did a note-perfect impression of Great Aunt Walburga's painting in the Howler she sent me." She attempted to plough past him and only managed to knock herself severely off-balance. She tottered forward for a moment and, lacking the strength to right herself, toppled over completely. Figuring Snape wasn't going to give her a hand up anytime soon, Tonks edged over to the nearest desk and managed to pull herself up to sit on it. "And what productive work have you been putting yourself to today?" she asked with an almost Snape-like venom in her voice. "Been brewing poisons and such?"

Instead of answering her, Snape turned in a billow of robes and strode into his office. He returned a moment later with a thin phial and a supercilious expression. "In fact, I was replenishing the school's medicinal potions."

Tonks' mouth formed a silent "O" of comprehension, then she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Snape was not exactly known for selfless generosity.

"Drink this," Snape ordered, attempting to hand her the phial.

Tonks refused to accept it. "What is it?"

"It's always rewarding to discover you haven't managed to get the most basic lessons through your pupils' thick skulls."

"You taught me that trusting anything you give me is a good way to get poisoned," she pointed out, trying to match his dry tone of voice.

Snape looked down at her. "It's a mild Invigoration Draught – nothing more."

Tonks' expression remained frozen in polite disbelief.

"Drink it and I'll have the house-elves bring you tea," he exhorted.

"Give it here," she demanded, holding out her wand hand. The fingers in her left hand were tingling oddly and she didn't want to risk breaking the fragile scab over the slice in her shoulder any more than she already had. The Ministry healers would likely want to have a few words with her in the morning about not overextending herself. _Fine, then_, she imagined herself telling them, _next time you can deal with Severus Snape._

Snape's eyes darkened and he pulled the phial away, baiting her. "Ask nicely."

Tonks did the next best thing: without changing expression, she sharply kicked him in the shin with her good leg. "Don't they teach you in Death Eater school not to taunt tired Aurors? You should bloody well know better!"

Snape's face only showed the faintest of winces, and an instant after he recoiled he shifted forward again, coming very close and using the full effect of his height to intimidate her. "And what did they tell you about provoking Death Eaters?"

"Wait forty-five minutes after eating?" Tonks hazarded, trying to ignore the strange flutter of her heartbeat and a sudden feeling of dizziness.

"Trying to put up a brave façade, Miss Tonks?"

She smiled in mock apology, although she could feel it not-quite reach her eyes. "Not at all frightened, sir."

Snape loomed closer. "I could frighten you."

Tonks snorted. "Snape, right now You-Know-Who himself could be nibbling on my toes and it wouldn't scare me."

Snape's eyes left her face and scanned her body. "You're bleeding."

"Unrivaled bloody powers of observation, here," Tonks muttered. "No worries; they patched me up at the office."

"Apparently not well. Do you normally have fuchsia blood?"

"What?"

"You're bleeding fuchsia blood from your shoulder. Here," he thrust the phial into her hands, "drink the Invigoration Draught so you can answer my questions properly."

"It's not poisoned?"

"If you'll recall, we went over this already, Miss Tonks. I need you to be coherent. Drink the potion."

Tonks closed her eyes and swallowed the potion in one gulp. It tasted bitter, like adrenaline and lemon with only the slightest tinge of honey. When she opened her eyes again, Snape nodded shortly before turning his back on her and crossing the room. Tonks watched as the multiple hazy images of Snape resolved into one image and then swam out of focus again. She then watched as three distinct Snapes each selected a book from the shelves and perused it.

Three white faces turned to look at her. "How do you feel?"

"Ruddy awful."

"More lucid?"

"A little - maybe. Are there supposed to be three of you?"

Snape flipped the page and read for a moment. "No. How did you acquire the wound on your shoulder?"

"Avery hexed me."

"Which hex?" Snape asked. Tonks noticed for the first time how enthralling his voice could be. She closed her eyes. "Which hex, Miss Tonks?"

"Slicing Hex."

"May I see it?"

Tonks' heavy eyelids flicked open again. She hadn't noticed him crossing the room, but now her vision was filled with Snapes in close proximity to her. Each of the Snapes set a book down beside her and turned to her with a strange expression on his face. She couldn't quite place it. _Since when was he interested in hex wounds?_ she wondered.

Tonks nodded and tried to shrug off her robe. She hissed in pain when the material caught on the half-healed scab. Snape's hand stopped her. "Allow me."

"Trying to get my clothes off…," she mumbled.

"Yes, that's surely my intention. There is nothing like an incoherent woman with a grotesque wound to set the pulse racing." Before Tonks could protest, Snape had stuck a wooden stirring spoon in her mouth. "Bite down."

"Mwht mwfll… Aaagh!"

Snape caught the spoon and put it back into her mouth. "I'm going to remove your sleeve, too. The blouse is unsalvageable."

After Tonks blinked away the white spots in her vision, she took the spoon out of her mouth with her good hand and attempted to beat Snape with it. "That bloody hurt, you evil git!" Her first two swings passed through insubstantial Snapes, but her third made contact with his head.

Half a second later, Snape had pried the wooden spoon out of her hand and sharply rapped her knuckles with it. "You said this was from a slicing hex?" he resumed his questioning in a conversational voice. "Sectumsempra?"

Tonks nodded and shrugged as well as she could. After one attempt at shrugging, however, she decided to stick with nodding in the future.

"Sectumsempra would not cause the secondary cuts, the boils or smell like fungus and petrol."

"In the apothecary," Tonks said blearily. "Jars broke and fell on me."

Snape sighed. "Don't tell me it was Slug and Jiggers that you demolished. Did you manage to get my powdered pearl?"

"In my robe. Pocket."

Snape's expression was doubtful as his gazeshifted to Tonks' bedraggled robe. "What fell on you?"

Tonks shook her head, and closed her eyes when that proved too disorienting. "Dunno. Had other things on my mind."

"It didn't concern you that _potions_ ingredients fell on an open wound?"

In spite of her best efforts to maintain a semblance of normalcy, Tonks couldn't keep her head from lolling. "I was busy trying not to die."

Snape snorted. Suddenly Tonks felt something icy touch her face and lift it up slightly. "You could've saved us all a great deal of trouble… open your eyes."

Tonks peeked open her eyes to see several Snapes staring at her clinically. With great effort, she managed to promise to try to be more considerate next time.

A slight smile touched his lips. "Do. You have a fever and your pupils are dilated."

"Not surprised," Tonks said. "I'm sort-of out of it."

"We've noticed," Snape responded.

"Who's we?"

"All three of me," Snape answered, turning to his book. "There are still three, correct?"

"More when you move close." She missed the feel of the cool hand on her face. "Felt good."

"You realize your bloodstream is poisoned." Tonks vaguely recognized the sound of pages flipping quickly as she concentrated on not falling over.

"Oh?"

"Yes. The veins in your arm are a livid yellow-orange color. I'd say you're declining rapidly now," Snape said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh." Tonks paused a moment, trying to wrap her mind around the incongruity of his words and his tone. "'S not good."

"I'd say not. Of course the boils and the petrol smell come from bubotuber pus. Vile, but hardly poisonous, even when a dunderheaded Auror manages to get it directly into her blood."

"Didn't mean to," she muttered in a slurred voice.

"Well, there is a distinct possibility that the swelling caused by the bubotuber pus has slowed the progress of the other ingredient, preserving your life."

"Oh." It took Tonks a moment to wrap her mind around what Snape had said. "The fungussy one?"

"I don't know. I'm looking at fungi now. If you somehow survive this," Snape said dryly, "please do recall that you managed to poison yourself without my assistance."

"Probably starts with 'B'," Tonks suggested. She felt herself wobbling dangerously on the edge of the desk, but her best attempts at righting herself only seemed to make her wobble more.

All of Snape's heads shot up to stare at her. "Why do you say that? Sit back."

Tonks acquiesced to Snape pushing her back farther onto the desk, but not without a grumble of protest. "Ow! 'S the alphabet… A… B… more B…"

Five pairs of beady black eyes widened until they were rimmed with white. "Slug and Jiggers organizes their potions ingredients alphabetically!" He turned and Tonks could just barely make out a flurry of turning pages and a distinctly un-reassuring hiss of indrawn breath.

"Bundimun secretions! You are by far the most stupid, unlucky fool I have ever had the misfortune of knowing!" Snape exclaimed. "It can only be that… no one is supposed to get Bundimun secretions directly into the bloodstream."

"Didn't do it on purpose," Tonks protested.

Snape rounded on her. "Shut up and attempt to stay alive while I brew an antidote. Can you manage that?"

"'Sanantidote?" she asked hopefully.

"Not yet," Snape answered as he rummaged through his stores. "And as your continued existence depends on my ability to devise one, I suggest you stop distracting me."

"Okay."

"Not another word," he commanded, "and if you feel you must collapse, do so backwards onto the table. No need to add a concussion to your list of injuries."

"Yessir." Snape shot her a warning glance, and Tonks repentantly clamped her mouth shut. Sitting upright was really taking too much effort, she decided, so she slowly eased herself backward and curled up on her uninjured side. It was not all that comfortable, but she reasoned dying wasn't supposed to be comfortable.

_This is not the time to be all phlegmatic!_ part of her mind protested, but Tonks figured that the dying process had somewhat altered her ability to think straight. She watched with almost detached interest as Snape began to chop and pour ingredients into a silver cauldron with nearly manic precision. _Blimey, he's good. Hope he's good enough…._

Her eyes drifted closed, and she woke again to Snape cleaning out the wound with a burning liquid and pressing a hot cloth with squishy bits over it.

"Ouch… whassat?" she asked weakly.

"A bezoar and phoenix tear poultice," Snape answered while winding gauze around it.

"'Spensive."

"It should draw out some of the poison. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut."

Tonks nodded mutely, settling back down to observe the Potions master at work. It occurred to her that she had never seen him at a cauldron before – and now she had the chance to observe several of him brewing. Even in her befuddled state, she could understand a little more of his classroom demeanor. Tension oozed from his every pore, but it was wound up and tightly controlled until it was sublimated into something Tonks had never seen before. There was nothing clumsy or inexact about the way he moved; everything looked graceful and deliberate, like some arcane dance. It was no wonder he found his students lacking. _Everyone's a dunderhead compared to him._

As coherent thought lapsed into brief, half-lucid nightmares of weaving spiders wrapping her in a prismatic web and Death Eaters hunting her down a dark alley, Tonks gritted her teeth and sighed. It felt like her veins were burning from the inside out and her heart had begun to struggle erratically. "Snape," she tried to call out warningly.

None of them turned from their cauldrons. "If you cannot wait the few short minutes until the potion is complete then your only other alternative is to go ahead and die."

"Stupid, bloody, evil git."

"That's the spirit," Snape congratulated her absently. "Now stop interrupting my concentration."

Given the options of dying and not dying (on one hand there was a Snape, but that still didn't quite tip the scales in favor of death) Tonks chose to keep enduring for a little while longer. Soon she felt a bottle pressed to her lips and heard Snape urging her to drink. Nearly half of the contents of the bottle ended up splattered over Snape's robes, but the portion that she swallowed began to work immediately, spreading a cooling feeling throughout her body as it cleansed her blood.

"Still alive?" Snape asked, his sarcasm falling strangely flat.

Tonks cracked an eyelid open. "I'm going to kill you."

She thought she caught a glimmer of some odd sort of mocking in Snape's eyes as he trailed an icy finger down her cheek. "Wait until you've regained your strength, dear."

"'Course," Tonks agreed, letting her eyelids slide closed again as she heard his footsteps moving away. A moment later she felt herself being turned about and something like another phial being pressed to her lips. She batted it away with her good hand. "What's--"

"Drink, Tonks," Snape said, sounding exhausted. "Argue with me about it in the morning."

Tonks interrupted her slow drifting out of consciousness to look at the phial critically. "It's a dreamless sleep potion," she pointed out to him.

"Shockingly enough, I'm aware of that. Drink," Snape said, his voice sounding at once close and distant.

Tonks giggled slightly. The part of her mind that wasn't completely befuddled with grogginess recognized a slightly hysterical edge to her laugh. "Can't sleep in the classroom; you'll take points."

"Miss Tonks, you are no longer my student. I cannot take house points from you."

"You will anyway," Tonks disagreed.

Snape drew himself up straighter. "Believe it or not, I have better things to do with my time than take imaginary house points from former students… most of which involve sleeping right at the moment."

For a moment Tonks appeared about to drink the potion, then she abruptly stopped as another thought occurred to her. "You promised me tea, you know."

"Tea would wake you up and that would be very much contrary to my purposes."

"Huh?"

Snape sighed. "I want you to sleep so I can sleep. I'll make you tea first thing tomorrow."

"Don't believe you."

"Miss Tonks, I am dangerously close to pouring this potion down your throat."

"Can't sleep in the classroom," she repeated stubbornly.

She heard him sigh again. "_Mobilicorpus_."

Tonks suddenly found herself dangling in midair like some sort of floppy marionette. "Hey!" she cried out in protest.

"You can sleep in my room," Snape said as he crossed the classroom. Tonks found that she had no other choice than to float along behind him. "There are no convenient guest rooms in the dungeons, I should probably monitor you for unfortunate relapses, and I suppose I will have to get used to it eventually."

"Huh?"

"If you are going to insist on being this deliberately obtuse for the duration of our marriage, I shall have to permanently drug one of us into oblivion," Snape said, throwing a door open.

Tonks let that comment pass concentrating instead on not knocking her head on the lintel. She felt bloody ridiculous dangling in midair.

"You can have this side of the bed," he said as he released the levitation spell on her and turned down one side of the covers pointedly.

Tonks landed with an undignified squeak. She was gingerly settling into bed and tucking herself in before she realized Snape had only granted her the use of half the bed. "You're sleeping here…?"

Snape merely favored her with a put-upon expression as re-tucked tucked the covers up to her chin. "This is _my bed_."

"… With me?"

Snape flopped down face first on the other side of the great old bed and then turned to favor her with a half-hearted glare. "Yes, I believe I've already confessed how attractive I find injured women - especially ones who reek of blood and potions ingredients."

Tonks stuck her bottom lip out petulantly. "You never know with you."

She heard two thunks as Snape toed his boots off and they fell to the floor. "Remind me again what possessed me to save your life?"

"Can't marry me if I'm dead."

"Don't remind me," Snape muttered, drawing the covers up to his ears.

"But you just told me to--"

"Bundimun secretions are by no means an aphrodisiac, Nymphadora, and I refuse to give up my bed because some idiot fiancée of mine nearly got herself killed. Drink the potion and go to sleep."

"Bloody wanker," Tonks muttered as she uncorked the phial and tipped it back as if obedience itself was an act of rebellion.

Snape's eyes glimmered coldly in the fading light. "Bottoms up." As Tonks' eyelids finally slid closed, she saw heard the Potions master, once again lying facedown into his pillow, sigh and mumble "Nox."

* * *

Author's note. Whoops! Sorry for the delay--this chapter was wickedly difficult to write! Yes, it was darker than my usual humor, but this chapter wouldn't let me not write it (believe me, I tried). Hopefully you enjoyed it, though, and if you feel I'm worthy of it, you might consider voting for me on the Multifaceted Awards this week. I'm nomidated in both the Laughter (Best Humor Fic) and the Pride (Best Fluff) categories.

By the way, this story is now cheerfully AU. Why? Because it's a parody of the marriage law fics, and must follow more or less the same path. I'm not above sneaking in things we learn about the characters, though.

Many, many, many thanks go out to Verity Brown for reading the early drafts of this chapter and for helping me find the funny.


	10. Nine

Tonks woke up with a jerk - literally as well as figuratively. The dungeon air was clammy as the grave, and someone had stolen all the covers. She eyed the sleeping man beside her as she shivered resentfully. Even in sleep, his face was still completely inscrutable. It was like looking at the carved image of a dead man on his sarcophagus - only somehow much, much more horrible, because every so often Snape let out a terrible snore.

Tonks winced as she gingerly raised herself to a sitting position. She couldn't tell what time of day it was here in the dungeons, but as far as she was concerned, it was never too early to limp back home to her own bed. She had a strange feeling that if she lingered any longer in this crypt she'd run mad and start playing with dead men's finger joints or dash out her brains with someone's petrified thigh bone or something... provided she somehow manage to find some. But given her suspicion that Snape probably had a ready supply of skeletons in his closet, she didn't figure she'd have too much trouble.

Just as she was shifting her weight to get out of bed, Snape's eyes shot open. "So you've managed to survive."

"Looks like the wedding's still on," Tonks confirmed grimly.

Snape rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. "Go back to sleep. It's not morning yet."

Tonks scratched around the bandage on her shoulder. Now that she was fully awake the damn thing was really beginning to ache – and itch. "How can you bloody well tell in here?"

"My alarm hasn't sounded," Snape answered shortly. With his face still buried in the pillow, he reached over to his bed stand and found another corked phial, which he tossed in her general direction. "Drink and sleep. I'll wake you in the morning."

Tonks considered for a moment and oblivion won out. She removed the cork and then held the phial up in a mock-toast. "Come phial." iSnape, I drink to thee./

* * *

Mornings typically found Severus Snape in a foul humor. So did afternoons and evenings, of course, but mornings required significantly more self control.

First there was the blast of his alarm to silence before his instinct to kill kicked in. Then there was the portion of the morning exclusively devoted to refraining from shattering anything. This generally took him to his bath (where he continued to refrain from shattering anything while facing himself in the mirror).

Only as the rising steam from the shower began to fog his mirror did his irritation ebb and clear the way for semi-rational thought.

_Blast!_ Snape carefully set his toothbrush down and peered out into his bedroom. As if to confirm his suspicions in the most glaringly obvious way possible, bright pink hair shone out in the gloom of the dungeon. He could also see glimpses of haphazardly-splayed limbs. There was most definitely a Tonks in his bed.

Snape closed and locked the bathroom door before stepping into the shower. There would be no towel-clad encounters or any other embarrassing run-ins if he had anything to say about it.

The hot shower did little to ease the knots of tension he had acquired as a result of the previous night's exertion. He was getting too old for skin-of-the-tooth potions-making. It was bloody murder on the back.

Despite the warmth, a frisson of goose-pimples rose along his arms and up the back of his neck like the flurry of snowflakes preceding an avalanche. He vainly attempted to recite potions ingredients in order to distract himself from the realization he felt coming.

_Aconite, acromantula venom, armadillo bile, asphodel…she's there, right now…belladonna, bezoar, billywig stings… in my bed._

_Boomslang skin, bubotuber pus, Bundimun…. Bloody hell, there's a student in my bed._ He had been more concerned last night with getting himself into the bed - it hadn't occurred to him to be disturbed about who he invited with him. But now, in the metaphorical light of day, there was nothing to stop the full impact of that from hitting him like the aforesaid avalanche.

_She's not a student any longer. She has not been one for seven years. And I was hardly taking advantage._ Still, Snape was still disturbed that he had crossed a line with a student. _ And that one in particular…._

Tonks had been nothing short of a menace in his classroom. Worse than the Weasley twins in her own way. She had an absolute knack for breaking or exploding precisely what would annoy him the most at the time - but she carried it off with an air of blithe obliviousness that resisted all his attempts to assign more nefarious motives. She was worse than Longbottom, too, because she wasn't an incompetent potions maker. She did manage to qualify for and pass NEWT-level Potions on her own merit. He had never forgiven her for that.

If someone out there had deliberately gone through his catalogue of former students to pair with him, they could not have found one who was more frustrating to him. When she was a student, he'd wanted to strangle her. Nothing had really changed all that much over the years, except that now she was lying in his bed, and they were going to be married. The urge to strangle, at least, persisted.

_Yech, marriage._ The term brought with it some unavoidable joint activities that might prove more than a little awkward.

It was unfortunate that Snape's inner-Dumbledore chose that moment to appear. What he had done to deserve an inner-Dumbledore was beyond Snape, but the damn mental construct was even more suggestive and twinkling than the real thing.

_ "It's much like riding a broomstick, my dear boy."_

"What," Snape snarled as he suppressed the unwelcome construct, "you end up spending the following day walking oddly and pulling splinters out of your arse?"

_ "What you learn once you never forget, I believe." _

"Go away, old man," Snape growled, very aware as he was doing so that he was talking to himself in the shower.

_ "I'm merely trying to impart some Quidditch advice… from one wizard to another."_

"You're not a wizard. You're a figment of my overactive imagination."

_"Really, my boy, you have nothing to worry about. You still have your equipment, after all."_

Snape chose not to justify that with an answer.

_"Kept it in working order, no doubt."_

"Please be kind enough to shut it," Snape suggested while attacking his hair with a bar of soap.

_"And of course you have been practicing your moves. How's your Sloth Grip Roll these days?"_

"Deplorable, but as we're not actually talking about Quidditch, what does it matter?"

_ "You're absolutely correct; under the circumstances, a Transylvanian Tackle or Wollongong Shimmy might be more appropriate." _

Snape paused a moment to rinse the soap out of his hair. "No, I don't believe they are."

_"Well I should stay away from using Parkin's Pincer if I were you,"_ Dumbledore advised. _"What about the good old Starfish and Stick?"_

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Snape said as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

In that somewhat addled state of mind, Snape toweled himself dry more haphazardly than usual. Then he paused. His clean clothing was in his wardrobe. The wardrobe was in his bedroom. That, coincidentally enough, was where Tonks was.

He unlocked the bathroom door and looked out into the bedroom. Tonks' limbs were arranged in a new anatomically improbable pose, but she appeared to be still asleep. He decided to chance it.

Before setting foot outside the door, however, Snape made sure that the towel was wrapped securely. Then, on second thought, he went back and threw his cloak over his shoulders. One could never be too careful where Tonks was concerned. The woman was a menace.

He crept across the still night-dark bedroom like a shadow and peered over at the sleeping woman. Tonks was muttering to herself. It could be a lingering after-effect of either the poison or the cure, he supposed. More than likely, however, the woman was incapable of going five minutes without emitting some sort of sound from her mouth.

Just then, she opened her eyes and stared directly at him. "Heffalumps don't do ballet!"

Snape jumped back in surprise and then frantically grabbed for his slipping towel. "Of course they don't," he replied as evenly as possible, given the situation. Tonks looked satisfied with his answer and her eyes closed. She soon resumed her unintelligible murmuring. _Let her sleep_, Snape decided, looking down on the young woman's drawn face and the thin line of drool trickling out of the corner of her mouth.

That had been a close thing last night, he considered. Very nearly _too_ close. Apparently the healers at the Ministry were greater fools than he'd originally given them credit for being. Gripping his towel in one hand and clutching his cloak closed with the other, he made his way to his wardrobe. Prudence guided him to gather the clothing he needed from the wardrobe and carry it out to his office to dress there.

After dressing, he summoned a house-elf. While he was waiting for it, he pulled a roll of parchment out of his desk drawer and licked the quill.

"Professor Snape wants something?"

Snape looked up at the house-elf for a moment. "Breakfast for two - and a pot of tea."

"Right away, Professor, sir."

Snape made a vague noise of acknowledgement and a moment later the house-elf was gone with a pop. He returned his attention to the parchment before him.

_Nymphadora Tonks finds herself indisposed and unable to work this morning as she attempts to recover from an inadvertent poisoning that the myopic, dimwitted imbeciles you call healers managed to completely overlook. _

Snape found himself spelling away numerous spiteful remarks about the fact that many of these so-called "healers" would have profited from paying attention in his class, or, failing that, from removing their heads from their arses… and simply signed his name at the bottom of the letter.

When the house-elf returned with breakfast, he gave it the letter to owl to the Aurors. After casting a stasis spell on breakfast, Snape brought it out to his classroom. There were far too many precious breakable things in his office.

The debris from the previous night's frantic potions-making was appalling. He spent over a quarter of an hour cleaning and inventorying the damage.

Tonks' bloodstained robe was lying on the floor where he'd tossed it the previous night. While rummaging through its many pockets he discovered her wand, some coins, Muggle bubble gum and finally, a small - and miraculously unbroken - jar of powdered pearl. With her wand in pocket and the jar in hand, Snape set to work.

The potion had just begun to simmer when a telltale crash from the direction of his chambers told him that Tonks had either gotten up or managed to fall out of bed. He set the potion in stasis and turned his head in the direction of the door.

"Out here."

Moments later, a bedraggled and sleepy-looking Tonks wandered out into the classroom, yawning ferociously. She wobbled dangerously close to a particularly precarious shelf, but managed to right herself before knocking it over. At that point Snape figured it was probably better to intervene. In a battle between Tonks and his potions stores, he knew he would be the greatest loser.

As he guided her by the elbow to the table that had been laid out with their breakfast, he could hear Tonks muttering something to herself. Snape decided to ignore her for the moment. She would likely be more coherent after her morning tea. He hadn't quite decided whether that was a good thing or not.

Having settled her in her seat without incident, Snape took his own seat, ended the stasis spell on breakfast, and poured Tonks a cup of the tea. He watched her eyes light up and follow the liquid from the spout of the teapot to the china cup.

She reached to take the cup out of his hands before he had even set it down, but he swatted her hand away.

"What?" Tonks asked, her eyebrows drawn together in accusatory confusion.

"Let's attempt to start today on a civil foot."

"I suppose 'gimme the blasted tea, you bugger' is out of the question then?" Tonks muttered darkly.

"Very much so. Would you like any milk in your tea?"

Tonks scrunched her nose and shook her head. "No, you friggin' control freak."

"Sugar?" he asked, his voice saccharine.

"What'd that tea ever do to you?" He watched her fingers twitch to reach for the cup again, but she resisted the urge and folded her hands.

Snape tried to suppressed the quirk of a smile in the corner of his mouth. "Poison?"

That forced a dry chuckle out of Tonks. "Just a dollop or two, I suppose."

Snape nodded and slid the cup across the table to her. He watched her whole body seem to relax as she first inhaled and then sipped the tea. She really was an odd woman, he decided.

"What time is it?" she asked after a moment.

"It's a little before ten. I've set our appointment with Elkins for quarter after eleven."

"You let me sleep in? Snape, I bloody well have to work this morning!" Tonks set her teacup down and managed to half-rise before crumpling over and hissing in pain.

Snape watched with a raised eyebrow. "Sit down. I sent an owl informing the Ministry that you would not be in this morning."

At first Tonks glared at him, but then she closed her eyes and the corners of her mouth quirked. When she opened her eyes again, they were crinkled with barely suppressed amusement. "You sent a _sick note_ for me?"

"You are obviously in no condition to work this morning."

Tonks plopped herself down in her chair and snorted at him. "I didn't think you knew what they were."

"Perhaps we can use this time to discuss how we will present ourselves to the Ministry?" Snape suggested, ignoring her attempt to bait him. "Seeing as you insist on having a big wedding, we might also want to discuss how we are going to bring that about. Amusing as the idea is, I am not willing to bankrupt myself in the process."

Tonks scratched the side of her nose. "I figured we'd reluctantly let Mr. Elkins talk us into being the poster couple for the new Marriage Law and have the Ministry pick up the bill. They need a story to sell."

"And what is our story?" Snape asked, dreading the answer.

"That's the hard bit," Tonks conceded. She stuffed a forkful of eggs into her mouth and made what she probably believed was a thoughtful face. Then she swallowed the mouthful of food and her eyes became disingenuously wide. "We've been pen-pals for years with out realizing each other's identity and only recently discovered who we were and that we were hopelessly in love."

Snape gritted his teeth. "Do I look like the type of man who writes long letters about myself and my feelings to a completely unknown person?"

Tonks appeared unfazed by his criticism. "I picked you up off the street when you were lost and alone and brought you into my home, where I gave you some tea and a reason for living. Then we fell hopelessly in love."

"Don't tell me you actually believe someone would fall for that drivel," Snape said.

Tonks simply grinned at him. "We met at a BDSM club and discovered a shared passion for whips and manacles. We fell hopelessly in love."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head. "I realize that this is probably demanding too much from you, but don't be ridiculous. Just because I am not the most popular teacher in this school does not mean I have a hidden penchant for dominating my sexual partners."

When he looked up, Tonks was grinning even more widely. "Actually, I was sort-of figuring it the other way around. Fine. No bondage. It's not something they could really print in the Prophet anyway." She rolled her eyes. "We met at a Ministry Ball. I was being harassed by a sloshed ex-boyfriend and you came to my defense. We talked, we had champagne, and we spent the rest of the evening dancing under the stars. Stick the hopeless love in there somewhere."

Snape nearly snorted his tea. "That's even less believable than your bondage suggestion. I'm hardly the knight in shining armor type. And I can tell you where to stick your hopeless love nonsense."

"Do I look like I've gone barmy? Of course you aren't, Snape. And any bloke who messed with me would be spending the rest of the night trying to fish his wand out of his left nostril. But that's not the point. The point is that the Ministry and the Prophet will eat it up. Unless you can think of something better?" she left the suggestion hanging.

"You're a gold-digger out for my family fortune," Snape proposed. "No love, hopeless or otherwise."

"You're blackmailing me to marry you so you can ally yourself with the Black family," Tonks shot back.

"Over my dead body, Nymphadora."

Tonks attempted to draw her wand on him, and – not finding it – settled for a fork with a piece of bacon on the end. "Snape, if you call me that again so help me I'll…"

"Attack me with the breakfast I am so generously providing you?" Snape grinned as he drew her own wand on her. "This might be more appropriate, dearest."

"_'Dearest'_? Pet names aren't an option, Snape."

"Indeed. If you refuse to let me call you Nymphadora, they're a necessity."

Tonks slammed down her fork and grabbed her wand from his hand. For his part, Snape let her take the wand and tried not to smirk too outrageously. After all, he did not want to experience firsthand what it would be like to fish his wand out of either nostril. "Do you honestly think we're going to convince the dunderheads at the Ministry that we're _hopelessly in love_ when we call each other 'Snape' and 'Tonks'?" he asked her.

"And stop calling everyone who works at the Ministry a dunderhead. I work there, too, y'know."

"Believe it or not, I was aware of that, Pookie."

"I'm definitely going to have to kill you," Tonks said almost to herself. "Snookums."

Snape favored her with an indulgent, vaguely feral smile. "You could always try using my first name…."

Tonks cocked her head to one side and gave him an equally mean smile. "You could always try shutting your gob, Sev'rus."

"That's 'Severus' - you missed a syllable."

Tonks stuck her tongue out at him. "Maybe I'll just call you Sevy."

"What's the matter, Nymphadora, can't wrap your mouth around it?"

Tonks' eyes widened before she recovered herself. He watched as her lips quirked into a rather naughty smile. "Wait and see, Snapeykins, wait and see."

Snape inclined his head to her before rising from the table and offering her his hand. "A word of advice, Nymphadora. Do not call me anything that you will live to regret."

Tonks accepted the hand - and punched him in the gut with her other hand. "I told you not to call me Nymphadora," she reminded him. She then dropped his hand and sauntered back in the direction of his bedroom.

Snape stood dumbly for a moment while he attempted to catch his breath. The urge to hex her into next week was rising again, but he reminded himself forcibly that her presence was required at the meeting this morning.

"I'm raiding your wardrobe," she called back nonchalantly.

That certainly got his attention. "Absolutely not!"

"You bloody well owe me a shirt!"

Snape groaned and followed her to the bedroom. "You can't go to this meeting wearing my shirt."

He found her already half-buried in his clothing. "I slept over at your place. I borrowed a shirt. What's wrong with that?"

"I refuse to have people thinking I'm marrying a cross-dressing Metamorphmagus."

"You can tell them our amorous activities got a bit out of hand and you caused irreparable damage to my shirt." She pulled out a pale green shirt that Snape didn't remember owning and held it up to her face. "D'you think this'll make me look peaky?"

"No more than usual." It occurred to Snape that he might as well just let her have the shirt. He abruptly pivoted and strode from the room. "Hurry and change. We have to be at the Ministry in twenty minutes - _dear_."

* * *

Special thanks go out to Verity Brown for her feedback (especially on all the earlier, not-funny drafts) and Wartcap and her team of Britpickers-cum-error-spotters. Without their help, you wouldn't be reading this.

Ah, yes, and as you can see, I'm not dead. Thanks go out to those who sent flowers and brownies :) I have plenty of really good excuses for why this is so late, but suffice it to say, I will always be a slow updater. I will also never drop this story.


	11. Ten

TEN

Eighteen minutes later, they managed to arrive in two separate and intact pieces at the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. As she peeked out of the gilded fireplace, Tonks had a sudden urge to flee. Mayhem had taken hold of the Atrium. It looked to her like every square inch of the vast room was packed with protestors and the shouted chants were nearly deafening. Every surface, from the polished wood floors to the vast turquoise ceiling, had been charmed to display anti-Ministry slogans. Even the Fountain of Magical Brethren appeared to be reluctantly sporting protest signs.

To Tonks, it looked a bit like a Weird Sisters concert gone horribly wrong. For one thing, it had been invaded by angry middle-aged witches.

And angry they were. It was a surprisingly organized effort for the day after the announcement first appeared in the _Daily Prophet_. By the looks of it, the owls of Britain had likely flown their feathers off in the intervening hours.

Snape touched her shoulder and said something to her, but his voice was lost in the din.

"What?" She shouted back to him, but she suspected that her voice was equally drowned out. The fireplace was acting like a ruddy echo chamber.

Snape rolled his eyes and pushed her forward slightly. "Move!" he bellowed into her ear. "You're standing on my foot."

Once they were out of the fireplace, the noise level died down to a bearable roar. Still, Tonks was of the opinion that half of Wizarding Britain would be hoarse tomorrow. She whistled softly in appreciation.

"Don't say it," Snape murmured from beside her.

She turned from her crowd-gazing to eye him incredulously. "I wasn't planning on saying anything."

"Yes you were. You were going to make some attempt at a clever observation."

Tonks shrugged, then winced at the pain from the still-aching wound. "Hadn't gotten that far, actually."

"Only because I stopped you before you had."

"I was simply appreciating the effort that went into this."

"You can gape later. Keep moving. We'll be late," Snape muttered in her ear.

Tonks turned and stuck her tongue out at him. It was a childish response, she knew, but she figured she had years of them stored up from her Potions classes experiences. "If you want to move faster, by all means take the lead," she returned, letting Snape wedge past her in the crowds. "But we're early anyway. By Ministry standards, those who arrive five minutes late to a meeting are just on time."

As they shoved and elbowed their way through the crowd, Tonks spotted several faces she recognized, including the parents of many of her former classmates. Her own mum was thankfully absent. She swore to herself when she realized that she had never responded to the Howler. She would have to do that as soon as their meeting with Elkins was finished – before her mother became seriously worried. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled warningly. One did not court the wrath of Andromeda Tonks nee Black with impunity. That Howler had only been a mild expression of her displeasure.

The signs were good reading, she discovered, and they detailed many interesting proposals for where the Ministry should stick its nose and what the crowd would like to do with Fudge and those responsible for this new law. More than once, Tonks had to restrain herself from offering suggestions.

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing when one blinking orange and green sign in particular caught her attention. It read, at first, "V.O.M.I.T.," then proceeded to spell out "Voters Opposed to Marriages Instituted through Tyranny." An interesting choice, she decided. There wouldn't be many in the world who would admit to membership in that particular group.

Her gaze slid to the purple sign beside it. "Witches Intending to Protest Eugenics." W.I.P.E., she realized. Her eyebrows raised on their own accord in bemused – and amused – respect for anyone who would actually venture out in public holding _that_ sign.

The coup de grâce, however was the enormous sign proclaiming its owner as a member of the "Association of Citizens Resisting Obligatory Nuptials for Young Muggle-borns."

It wasn't precisely a surprise that, once Tonks managed to unglue her eyes from the signs, she found that the protestors carrying them were none other than Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. From the expressions on their faces, both Ron and Harry looked like they would rather be dining on Cockroach Clusters with the entirety of Slytherin House than standing there with Hermione's protest signs. As their path through the crowd pushed them closer to the trio, Tonks was even more amused to see them being photographed and interviewed by people from the _Daily Prophet_.

"Don't tell me that's–" Snape began.

"Of course it is," she confirmed. "One of us will be giving that girl remedial acronym lessons this year," Tonks muttered to Snape. "I think she's missing something of the subtle science and exact art."

"It won't be me."

Tonks turned one of his own snorts back at him. "You're the one with all the fancy speeches."

By that point, Hermione had caught sight of the gaping Auror as well and was waving at her enthusiastically. "Tonks! Professor Snape!"

Snape looked at Tonks and shook his head warningly. "No. I have absolutely no desire to mingle with Potter and his press corps."

"They saw us – we have to. It will only be a minute, you grouchy old git." The Granger contingent was more or less on their way to the lifts. Tonks nodded to them. "Wotcher, Hermione, Ron, Harry! Nice signs."

She turned an eyebrow on Snape in challenge. He glowered at her before curling his lips into a sneer. "Granger. Weasley. Potter." He turned back to Tonks. "We are now officially late for our meeting, even by your Ministry standards."

The reporter from the _Prophet_ pushed her glasses back on her nose and squinted at Snape and Tonks. "And who are these?"

"This is Nymphadora Tonks, and Professor Snape," Hermione supplied.

The woman looked at them doubtfully. "And you are also here to protest the Marriage Act?"

"No," Snape corrected. "We're here to discuss getting married."

Tonks closed her eyes and felt the collective and decidedly hostile attention of every witch and wizard within a ten-meter radius suddenly coalesce upon them. For an intelligent man, Snape could be a right prat sometimes. Tonks reopened her eyes and smiled somewhat manically. "Unfortunately we're late for our meeting. Catch you later, Harry, Ron, Hermione."

"If I could get just one statement…" the reporter attempted.

"Sorry; have to fly. Maybe later."

They attempted to beat a hasty retreat, but the crowd would not part for them. Snape looked down his nose at the burly wizard who blocked their path. "Move."

"An' if I don't want to?" the man fired back.

Tonks groaned in frustration. "We don't have time for this," she hissed at Snape as she pushed herself in front of him. "Bugger off," she announced to the crowd. "Auror in the line of duty."

More startled than anything, the man let her push him aside and she strode past him. She grabbed the sleeve of Snape's robe and hauled him with her.

"'Bugger off'?" Snape repeated mockingly as he followed in her wake.

"D'you know how close we came to being mobbed back there?"

"So you told them to 'bugger off.'"

Tonks ignored him and instead focused on getting through the mass of protestors. "I'm a bloody Auror! Clear a path!"

"Feeling a sudden urge to help maintain order?" Snape asked.

Tonks chose to treat that comment as an attempt at light banter and grinned back at him cheekily. "I'm off-duty at the moment. My fiancé wrote me a sick note. Besides," she added as an afterthought, "I'm more or less inclined to let the buggers responsible deal with it by themselves."

"Now that's the attitude I have come to expect from Ministry employees."

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Tonks remarked, trying to conceal a grin.

Snape snorted, and Tonks could feel his breath on the back of her neck. The little hairs there rose in response. "I'm certain that had nothing to do with the fact that the right side of the bed was occupied at the time."

"Let's go register your wand, you surly git," Tonks ordered, chuckling slightly to herself.

Thankfully, they made it to the security stand without further incident. It took more effort than usual to explain to Eric Munch that they actually had an _appointment_ with the Matrimonial Planning Office, but once he understood that they weren't protestors, he gladly registered Snape's wand and let them pass to the lifts.

Once inside a lift, Tonks punched the appropriate button and then rested her head against the wall. Her shoulder had begun to hurt again from the exertion. She flexed it slightly. Yep. Definitely hurt. In order to distract herself, she felt around in the pockets of her robe for bubblegum. Reparo had undone much of the damage from Avery's Slicing Hex, but the black material was still stained with dried blood. Householdy spells were apparently not Snape's specialty either. It felt a little odd to be walking around in a robe caked with her own blood, but it was, she considered, fairly appropriate attire for announcing her engagement to Snape.

"Your shoulder?"

"'S fine," Tonks said. "Just reopened the cut a bit down there."

"I don't suppose you'd consider attempting to be accident-averse on occasion…  
We're here."

Snape gestured for her to precede him. Tonks did so, but didn't quite manage to resist the urge to roll her eyes at him as she passed. "I'm fine. Big, tough Auror, remember? Just act like the ruddy overbearing fiancé you are and shut your gob," Tonks advised, narrowing her eyes and searching the gloomy hallway for any sign of the office.

"That's it," Snape said, pointing to a door with a bit of parchment tacked onto it. Squinting, Tonks managed to make out the words: "Matrimonial Planning Office" written in cramped handwriting. She took a deep breath and reached for the door handle. Just as she touched it, Snape stopped her with a hand on her own.

"Last chance to turn back," he whispered.

"Let's get this over with," Tonks returned gruffly.

Snape's eyes glimmered darkly as they turned the doorknob together.

The first thing that struck Tonks about the office within was an impression of extraordinary dustiness and a familiar smoky smell she couldn't quite place. The office itself was surprisingly spacious, but already beginning to overflow with filing cabinets and paperwork.

A woman who was most likely Ernestine Hibbins turned from the fireplace for a moment when Snape and Tonks entered. Apparently recognizing them as Elkins' 11:15 appointment, she nodded to them and held up a single long finger before returning to her conversation over the Floo. Tonks felt oddly grateful that the Floo had been charmed so that all she could here was the caller's muffled strident tones and the secretary's placating answers.

"I understand your concerns, Madam, however… Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am. Er… No, a transfusion won't… because that's not how we determine blood status… oh, no, that's not… of course, I understand. You're not the first. Be sure to address it directly to Josephus Elkins at the Matrimonial Planning Office. Thank you and haveaniceday."

The woman seemed to deflate as she sat back on her heels. She took a moment to regroup herself before getting to her feet and greeting Snape and Tonks. "Professor Snape and Miss Tonks?"

"That's us," Tonks confirmed. Snape inclined his head in agreement.

Hibbins sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin. Mr. Elkins was delayed. He told me to apologize for him and ask if you wouldn't mind having a seat and waiting a few minutes for him."

"Busy day?" Tonks asked solicitously. Beside her, Snape picked a pamphlet up off the stack on the coffee table.

Ms. Hibbins laughed shortly. "Just a bit." Just then the fireplace flared to life again. Hibbins rolled her eyes. "Sorry. That ruddy thing never stops. Can't get anyone to disconnect it, either. They say it will take two weeks before they can get someone in to work on it… so all I can do in the meantime is to charm it so the shouting doesn't deafen me anymore… Yes, good morning, sir. This is the Matrimonial Planning Office. I'm sorry, Mr. Elkins is out of the office at the moment. May I take a message? That was spider boils? Where again? Ah - yes, thank you. Same to you."

A tap on her arm directed Tonks' attention to Snape. One of his eyebrows was raised and his mouth was twisted with suppressed amusement as he held the pamphlet out to her.

"Mimsy Marriages," she read aloud. "The brave new world of the Marriage Programme."

"Like it?" Hibbins asked with a decidedly impish grin. "I wrote it myself. It's aimed at introducing the Muggle-borns to the idea of these Ministry-arranged marriages. Mr. Elkins seemed to think that since I'm Muggle-born myself, I'd be better able to explain the Ministry's justifications to them."

"That was very thoughtful of him," Snape said evenly. Tonks shot him a quick glance and found that, as far as she could decipher from his expression, he was attempting to resist the urge to smile. It was a frightening thing to behold.

"I thought it was an excellent idea as well," Hibbins responded with a tight little smile. "Though I have to say I hadn't quite expected the two of you to appreciate it." The Floo flared up again before she could say anything more. "Sorry. What was that, sir? No, that would be the Department of Magical Pest Control. No, I'm sorry, I can't help you with your Doxy infestation. Because that's not what we do here. You really want the Department of Magical Pest Control for this one… Now why would they send you to us? Hold please; I'll redirect you."

The office door opened just as the green flames of the Floo died down and an older, harried-looking man hobbled in. "Miss Hibbins! Have you seen the protesters in the lobby? Why do these people not understand that we're acting in their best interest?"

"They're just not used to people telling them who to marry, sir," Hibbins explained in a mollifying tone of voice.

"I barely made it through without being assaulted," he continued. "Had to convince them that I was the janitor… that'll show 'em that old Elkins still has a wand or two up his sleeve."

"Your eleven-fifteen appointment is here, sir. Miss Tonks and Mr. Snape…" Both Tonks and Snape hastily stood to greet the older man.

"Had to leave young Ibister behind, though. Ah, he'll make it through. That boy's as wily as a greased Jarvey." He was interrupted by a tapping on the door. "That'll be him, then. Good lad."

When he opened the door, however, it was not the missing Mr. Ibister, but an all-too-familiar blue parrot with a smoking red envelope. Tonks groaned. Now she realized why the air in the office was so oddly smoky. The layer of fine dust over everything in the office was more than likely ash accumulated from dozens of Howlers. Ernestine Hibbins caught her eye and grinned as Elkins began to shout back at the Howler.

"And that's that," Elkins concluded, brushing a soot-covered strand of white hair to cover his bald spot again. "Now, who are these people again?"

"Miss Tonks and Mr. Snape – your eleven-fifteen appointment, sir… the couple that actually wants to get married?"

"Ah, welcome!" Elkins' face lit up and he offered a hearty handshake to Snape. "Welcome indeed! I'm Josephus Elkins of the Matrimonial Planning Office. And Miss Tonks. My, what unusual hair you have, my dear…"

"Potions accident," Snape lied glibly. Tonks deliberately stepped on his toes.

"Better get it back to normal before the wedding, eh?" Elkins said. "Wouldn't want to scare your groom away."

"We're working on it, believe me," Snape assured him.

Tonks folded her arms. "I like it like this."

"Oh-ho, trouble in paradise!" Elkins chortled. "Come love birds, into my office with you," he said, ushering them past Ernestine Hibbins' desk to the inner office. "So, tell me about yourselves. Mr. Snape, is it?"

Snape waited until Tonks was ensconced in one of the ash-dusted chairs and Elkins sat himself behind his desk before drawing the other chair close to Tonks and seating himself. "Professor Snape, actually. I am Potions master at Hogwarts."

"Good old Hogwarts! How is everyone there? Professors Tockley and good old Binns and Worblehat the Librarian… oh, but of course they're…"

"I believe Professor Tockley and Doctor Worblehat retired some time ago," Snape said diplomatically, "but Professor Binns is still teaching. I'll be sure to send him your regard."

"Strange, I remember old Binney being ancient when I was a lad. Though don't all professors seem ancient to youngsters?"

Tonks nodded enthusiastically and Snape shot her a dark look.

Elkins continued on, oblivious to the exchange. "You would think the old man would retire. How old is he now?"

Snape coughed. "I believe he celebrated his thirty-fifth Deathday last week."

Elkins had not been expecting that, and sat back in his chair for a moment while trying to come up with an appropriate response.

"I've heard his lectures are as good as ever," Tonks supplied.

Elkins nodded to himself. "I'm glad. Good old Binney… Glad to hear he's doing well, despite the circumstances, of course…"

"Can't keep a good man down," Tonks added pertly. Snape kicked her in the ankle. "Ouch."

Elkins shook his head. "What was that? I'm sorry; I've gone a trifle deaf with all the Howlers these last two days." He cleaned out one of his ears with a blunt finger and, to Tonks' amazement, a thin stream of ash trickled out.

"I broke a nail," Tonks lied.

Elkins smiled benignly at her. "And what do you do, dear?"

"I'm an Auror."

"Ah." Tonks suppressed a smile as she watched Elkins start to flounder again.

"But she has just resigned in favor of becoming Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Snape said smoothly. He shot Tonks a quick warning glare which she interpreted as an instruction to stop making jokes that went over Elkins' head.

Elkins' second "ah" sounded much more relieved. Then he raised a bushy white eyebrow. "But… Dark Arts? One would think a subject like Charms would be better suited for such a lovely lady."

"I tried to get Charms, but Flitwick beat me," Tonks lied. "At an arm-wrestling contest."

Snape patted her hand condescendingly and she got the feeling he was resisting the urge to throttle her. "You can always apply for it again next year, Pookie."

"Flitwick's too tough for me…" She grinned at Snape. Obedience to direct orders was never her strongest suit. Besides, it was like her sense of humor was a Snitch in a Quidditch game and Elkins hadn't a chance at catching it. "I could always have a go at Potions."

"Over my dead… my apologies, Mr. Elkins. My fiancée has a unique sense of humor."

"So, you will be working together," Elkins said, still blissfully oblivious of the couple's unspoken warfare. "Lovely. And what about your families? What do they think about this?"

"My family has unfortunately passed," Snape answered. "Nymphadora is the only family I have now." He ran an icy finger up Tonks' arm and smiled at her in a way she figured was meant to be doting, but was actually right eerie in Tonks' expert opinion. She kicked him in the shin as surreptitiously as possible. Bloody git knew how much it freaked her out when he touched her.

"So you're the last scion of the Snape family, eh? Don't believe I've heard much about them."

Snape's touch left Tonks with the sensation of crawling spiders scurrying up and down her arm. "Few have," he answered cryptically. "They kept mostly to themselves."

"It sounds like a good old wizarding name, though. 'Snape.' It's got a nice ring to it. And your parents, missy? Muggles, no doubt?"

"My dad's Muggle-born," Tonks answered, shifting her arm away from Snape. "My mother's pureblood, actually. Andromeda Tonks. Used to be Andromeda Black."

"Ah, yes - a great wizarding family, that one," Elkins said, seizing upon the name. "Although now sadly declined. Yes, I remember your family well. Orion and Walburga - your grandparents, correct?"

"Er, no – actually my grandparents were Cygnus and Druella," Tonks corrected, shifting slightly in her chair. "I think."

Elkins raised both bushy grey eyebrows in confusion. "You only think? Don't know your own grandparents?"

Tonks tried an apologetic and ingratiating smile. "They sort-of disowned my mother when she married Dad. Blasted her off the tapestry and such."

"Ah… high romance, I can see it now. It's true, the House of Black was a bit concerned with blood status. It was almost like royalty, being a Black. Walburga certainly thought so. Dated her once when I was a lad… a bit tetchy, that one… but of course she married Orion. I'm related to the Black family on my mother's side, you know… oh, about four centuries ago… considered quite the scandalous match in those days. Couldn't imagine how they're rolling in their graves with what we're doing now… but it must be done. Got to protect the wizarding world against itself. Too many Squibs these days. Even the Black family had the odd Squib, you know."

Tonks found herself smiling and nodding along at appropriate intervals. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Snape was doing the same, except without the smiling.

"…And Phineas Black… wouldn't he chortle now. Supported Muggle rights back in the twenties. 'Course ol' Araminta had to counter him with a Bill to legalize Muggle-hunting… You know, I think that last owl derived more pleasure than necessary delivering that Howler."

"Sorry?" Tonks asked.

"That blue owl. Blue's an odd shade for an owl, isn't it?"

"Oh. Yes," Tonks said. "He's a nasty sort. I've had run-ins with him before."

Snape shifted in the chair beside her and covered Tonks' hand with his. For her part, Tonks tried not to cringe. "So, are we an acceptable couple under this law of yours?" Snape asked.

"More 'n acceptable, lad." The codger laughed heartily. "You're the only one we've got at this point."

The door behind them flew open and a pudgy, harassed-looking young man stumbled inside. "Just got past those damned protesters." He stopped when he noticed Tonks and made a face. "Sorry, miss."

Tonks blinked. "For what?"

"Cursing."

"When?"

"Just now."

"Must've missed it – what'd you say?"

"'Damned'."

She snorted. "I say worse than that." This time she dodged the swift kick Snape sent her way. "Mr. Ibister, I presume?"

"Miss Tonks here is an Auror," Elkins supplied. "Not your shrinking violet type, I'd say, eh, Miss Tonks?"

"Violet makes me look right peeky. And no shrinking here." She grinned back. "Else I wouldn't be marrying Sn-arkypants, here." She patted Snape's hand and grinned fatuously at him to cover for her near-flub. His narrowed eyes promised swift retribution once they were alone.

Still puffing slightly from the exertion of escaping the crowd, Ibister paused and raised both eyebrows at the couple. "I hear you tendered your resignation from the Aurors yesterday, however."

"My fiancée has accepted a position at Hogwarts," Snape explained without looking away from her.

"Sevvy wants to keep as many pieces of me as possible," Tonks added, pouting at him outrageously.

There was a glimmer of dark humor in his eyes as he quirked an eyebrow at her. "Ideally all attached." His expression was almost mischievous as he turned to Elkins. "Can you blame me?"

Elkins chortled in delight. "No, lad. Sounds to me like a reasonable thing for a husband to want."

Ibister, however, only nodded perfunctorily and pulled over an unused chair. After dusting the ashes off if it with a quick charm, he sat down and folded his hands in his lap and looked at the pair knowingly. "And how did you first meet?"

"Well, I was at this Ministry ball and one of my ex-boyfriends –" Tonks' prepared speech was halted by Snape covering her hand with his, and quirked an eyebrow at Ibister.

"I believe he meant the _very first_ time we met, Nymphadora."

Tonks looked at him in momentary confusion. "Potions class?"

"Indeed."

"Oh. I had Professor Snape for first year Potions. I was eleven and he was-"

"Attempting to prevent a classroom full of dunderheads from blowing themselves up, I believe," Snape interrupted smoothly, forestalling Tonks from being able to make a crack at his age.

Henry Ibister looked as if he had been aware of their previous student-teacher relationship even before he asked. "And did you have any… er, did anything untoward happen while Miss Tonks was a student?"

"Huh?" Tonks asked. She was still admittedly a bit distracted by the hand on her own.

"He's asking whether we had an improper relationship while you were a student, dear."

"Merlin, no!"

"Are you certain of that?" Ibister asked more forcefully.

"D'you think I wouldn't have _noticed_ it?" Tonks returned.

"Seems like something they'd remember," Elkins concurred. "Not that it would be all that shocking, mind you. In my day there was a great deal of scurrying around the hallways late at night… Even ol' Binney. Did you know _that_ about Binns, son?"

"I'd never imagined," Snape answered. Tonks got the distinct impression that he did not want to start imagining now. She had to agree with him there.

Ibister looked flustered, though Tonks figured it wasn't from the idea of Professor Binns' late-night rendezvous. She was fairly certain he had not been a Hogwarts student. She pegged him for more of a Beauxbatons alumnus. "I simply mean that it could look very bad for us if it was discovered that our first couple had carried on a previous illicit liaison."

"You worry too much, boy."

"It's my job to worry, sir," he answered stiffly.

Elkins turned to Snape. "Did you and the lady here ever canoodle when she was a student?"

Snape looked him directly in the eye. "No. When she was a student I found her irritating and tried to ignore her as much as humanly possible. Among other things, she was a Gryffindor."

"Took him _forever_ to forgive me for that," Tonks muttered.

"Well, there you go," Elkins said, looking fully convinced. "I'll take this wizard at his word. Looks like this is the couple for us." He chortled to himself. "Only couple we've got, and you know it, as well as I do, young Ibister. So, when do you two turtledoves want to get hitched?"

"As soon as possible," Snape answered quickly.

Elkins reached over his desk and clapped Snape on the shoulder heartily. "Ah, to be young and rash." Tonks had to bite her tongue in order to keep from giggling at the idea of Snape being rash, much less young. "But what about your lady – does she agree?"

Snape looked at her and raised a single eyebrow. It was the perfect set-up, even she felt it in her copper's bones. Tonks most certainly would not agree to be married immediately… at least not before wheedling several expensive concessions out of the Ministry. It was time to play Bridezilla. _Bugger_. Even with all of her careful thought and spun-out scenarios, Tonks had somehow neglected to prepare for this one.

"No. No – I don't agree! I'm sorry, Sev, but you're not just dragging me to the Registry Office and saying 'well, that's it, we're married.' I want a real wedding!" Tonks let her voice trail off into a wail as she covered her face with her hands and cried. _That ought to hook 'em_, she decided. She pulled out an eyelash for some more authentic tears.

_Oh bollocks_. Tonks realized too late that she was in a room full of men who were more or less completely at a loss for how to deal with a hysterical woman. Snape had undoubtedly seen a few in his time, but he'd more likely been the cause of the hysterical tears rather than a comforter. She continued to sob for what seemed an abnormally long period of time before Snape knelt down beside her, his knees popping as he did so.

"Now Nympha-"

"And don't call me Nymphadora!"

"Oh-ho!" Elkins said, chuckling slightly as he moved around his desk and handed her a handkerchief. "Don't you want to marry him, lass?"

Tonks looked up for a moment to take the handkerchief. "I do want to marry him… but I've dreamt of this day since I was a little girl. It has to be _magical_. With flowers and cake and a puffy white dress…"

"You know as well as I do that we cannot afford that kind of a wedding at present," Snape said, resting one hand on her knee. Tonks caught the faintest edge in his dry voice, as if he were reluctantly chewing out words from a script he loathed. "Perhaps in another year or so…"

Elkins coughed slightly to get their attention. "Well then, let's see what the Ministry can do to make this better."

Tonks blinked up at him hopefully. "Really?

"You don't have to do this, sir," Snape said.

Elkins clapped him on the shoulder again and Snape locked eyes with Tonks. Once again, he was promising retribution for getting him into this situation, and retribution would be both swift and vicious. "Not a problem, lad. We've got a few Knuts set aside for this sort of thing… and, to be honest, some extra in the 'informative pamphlet' slush fund… we'd be happy to foot the bill for the wedding of this spiky-haired lass's dreams."

"You'd do that for me?" Tonks asked, biting the inside of her cheek again to keep from giggling at the look in Snape's eye.

"In a heartbeat, m'dear. Can't stand to see a pretty lady cry. Now of course you could help us out in return, I suppose…"

"But what could we do to help you?" Tonks asked.

"Well there, we'd have to write the expense off as advertising for the new campaign, you see… a replacement for those failed pamphlets. So if you would be willing to maybe invite a handful of additional guests to your wedding and maybe allow a photographer or two from the _Prophet_ to snap the occasional picture…"

"I suppose we could do that," Snape said slowly, his black eyes locked with Tonks'. "_If it will make my Pookie happy_."

"And, of course, you would agree to give an interview with the _Prophet_," Elkins said almost off-handedly. Tonks had to give credit to the wily old coot… he was deftly manipulating them to get just what he wanted as surely as they were manipulating him.

Snape put on one of his less-formidable scowls. "I'd rather not be interviewed."

"We'd prefer it if you did, lad," Elkins said firmly.

"Think of all the other couples it would help," Ibister added quickly.

"And, of course, it would be a way of telling the wizarding world how much you love this little lady."

"Are you ashamed of me, Sev?" Tonks asked, her eyes wide.

Snape didn't quite restrain himself from rolling his eyes at her. "We'll do the interview," he said with obvious resignation in his voice.

Tonks threw her arms around his neck with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary. She hit his ear with one arm and managed to aggravate the cut on her other. By mutual assent, they separated rather quickly.

"Wonderful!" Elkins smiled benignly. "It just so happens there will be someone from the _Prophet_ here this afternoon. I'll have her speak to you as well."

"I'll be in my office all afternoon, and I'm sure Sev will be around somewhere as well," Tonks said. "Right, Sev?"

Snape stood and offered her a hand up. Tonks took it grudgingly. "I have some business to attend to at St. Mungo's this morning and then I shall most likely be at the Patent Office." Tonks shot him a suspicious look. "We should talk to Nymphadora's family tomorrow. After that, we shall owl you with the date we have set and decide on a time to meet so that we can take care of any other little details."

"Haven't told the family yet, eh?" Elkins asked with a knowing look and an arched eyebrow. "If I know Black family women, that's not a wise choice, lad."

"My mother already heard about the engagement from a source in the Ministry before I could tell her about it." Tonks gave Ibister a quick scowl. She was careful to keep it at less than Snape-level ferocity. "The damage's been done. Now we're waiting a bit to let her cool off."

"Ah…" Elkins said. "That _could_ be wise, then. Well, good luck, my young lovers."

Tonks looked at Snape and tried not to wince.

"Thank you," Snape said stiffly.

Tonks attempted to plaster a grin over what must have been an expression of abject terror. "Yes. Thanks. Cheers, then." The fake grin did not slide off her face until after they had marched through the outer office, down the hallway and lift doors slid safely shut. She took a deep breath and punched the button for Level Two.

"Healers first," Snape said, not looking at her as he pressed the button for the Atrium. A moment later he turned a raised eyebrow to her. "Snarkypants?"

Tonks turned to him and smiled faintly. "I think it suits you."

"Indeed?" The tone of his voice was dangerous, but Tonks caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"You enjoyed yourself, didn't you?" she accused.

"Of course I didn't," he said just a little too offhandedly. "That was one of the most painful experiences of my existence."

"And you bloody well enjoyed yourself!"

Snape favored her with a knowing look. "As did you, Nymphadora."

Tonks bit her lip. "Maybe a little." She grinned at him. "Miss Hibbins suspects, you know."

"She will make a good ally. The important thing is that Elkins does not suspect, despite your attempts at humor."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Half of it he didn't even get."

He ignored her comment. "Nor does Ibister suspect, I believe."

"Ibister has his head wedged too far up his arse to notice the time of day," Tonks returned.

Snape nodded in agreement and looked up at the lighted numbers above the door.

"Do we really have to see the Healers?"

Snape's gaze flickered down to her for a moment before returning to the numbers. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I said… If you object to seeing the Healers, then the next time I find you lying on my doorstep dying, I will leave you there." The door opened and Snape arched an eyebrow at her. "Coming, dear?"

Tonks followed him out into the Atrium. "I'm going to have to sit there while you heckle them, aren't I?"

Snape grinned viciously. "Just think of it as an opportunity for me to 'act like the overbearing fiancé' that I am. Besides, half of it they won't even get."

Tonks sighed resignedly as she followed him through the crowd again. "Bloody hell… just kill me now."

Snape stopped for a moment and gave her an appraising look. "Too late for that. I'm afraid you're stuck with me now."

Yes, it's really an update, and my longest chapter yet. I _told_ you it wasn't abandoned.

Many thanks to Verity Brown, who patiently worked with me through sixteen (okay, three of the last four) drafts of this thing, and Wartcap, Britpicker extraordinaire. (Psst - you should check out their stories as well).


	12. Eleven

"So, how does it feel to be the first known survivor of Bundimun secretion poisoning?" Madam Bones regarded Tonks with a knowing smirk.

Tonks pivoted as if to leave the office only moments after having entered it. "Not you too." Rumors were flying fast if they had made it to Madam Bones already. Still, Tonks had undoubtedly been called in here for a reason, so she pivoted again and collapsed into one of the chairs facing the desk. Better to take this sitting down, she decided.

If Madam Bones had any observations regarding Tonks' unusual interpretation of office etiquette, she chose not to voice them. "I hear your fiancé gave the Healers quite a talking-to."

"And then marched straight away to the Patent Office," Tonks added.

"What a charming man," Madam Bones murmured, adjusting her monocle.

"So I've noticed."

"Speaking of charming men," the department head segued with the faintest of sighs, "our newest prisoner has apparently taken a shine to you as well."

"Oh?" Tonks decided almost immediately that she did not like the sound of that.

"Would you be up to interrogating him? He's been asking for you."

"Bloody hell."

"I would understand if you're not feeling up to it, of course. After all, we wouldn't want Professor Snape to scold us for taxing you," she said a little too smoothly. Tonks was beginning to get the distinct feeling that the dour woman was poking fun at her.

"I'll be fine," Tonks said. "Only – why does he want to talk to me?"

"I suspect that's something you should ask him," Madam Bones suggested, looking down at the papers on her desk and shuffling them meaningfully.

"I'll go do that."

* * *

Avery was lounging on the bed in his cell when Tonks arrived. "So, I hear you've been asking for me," she said. Behind her, the door clanked shut again and two guards resumed their posts at either side of it.

The bedraggled man raised his head. "You're in late today." To Tonks he looked like the kind of rat that rats wouldn't associate with, except that he had the strange roguish charm of a psychopath. Never a good combination, she knew.

She seated herself at one of the chairs the guards had set up for her. "Had a bit of a lie-in with Sevvy-poo."

Avery took the hint and joined her at the table. "That's disgusting."

"Don't I know it. So, what'd you want to chat about?" As she bantered with the man, Tonks began to unpack the supplies she had brought in with her.

"Oh, nothing in particular. Figured if I had to be interrogated by an Auror I might as well get myself a pretty one who has a thing for Death Eaters. And I see you brought lunch for me."

"I brought lunch for _me_. Figured as long as I had to interrogate you, I might as well take a moment to eat while I'm at it. But I did bring this for you," Tonks said, sliding a glass of clear liquid over to him.

Avery frowned at it suspiciously. "And what's that?"

"Water?"

"Coy one you are," he said wryly. "Almost believed you for a second there."

Tonks shrugged and took a bite of her sandwich. "You'll be drinking it anyway. You can either drink it on your own or I can call in a few of my big strong Auror mates and they can make you drink it. Ooh, pickle."

Avery rolled his eyes and tossed back the liquid. "I can name names." 

"So can I," Tonks said.

"Of Death Eaters," Avery clarified.

"Yes, I got that bit," Tonks said. "Got anyone that'll surprise us?"

Avery thought for a moment. "Er, no."

"Good, then. Moving on."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a rather strange interrogation style?"

"My fiancé said much the same thing the other day. The way I see it, you Death Eaters have become too used to Moldyvort's methods. Crucio, hex, hex, snide remark, debasement… a tad on the boring side, isn't it? You really should try to keep an open mind about these things. You might even find you enjoy a change of pace. Er, actually, speaking of my fiancé, we've got an interview with the _Prophet_ in half an hour, so if we could hurry this up a bit…"

Avery had set his feet on the table and was viewing his cell through the lens of his glass. If it had been any of several other Death Eaters, Tonks might've been worried by his eccentric behavior, but the read she got off Avery suggested that he was more relieved to be imprisoned than anything. Psychopath? Yes. Murdering bastard? Surely. The type to explode people into bits in order to attempt a breakout? Meh, not particularly. Avery had bought his freedom before; he was fairly confident he could do it again. This was the type of prisoner that she liked. "What can you give me?" he asked.

"A bloody nose."

"Now, see, I didn't even believe that." Avery sighed and put down the glass. "You're supposed to ask me what I can give you."

Tonks finished half her sandwich and started on the other half. It was very good; she'd have to thank the Hogwarts house-elves for making it for her. "What can you give me, then?"

"That's better," Avery said. "Now it just might happen that I just might know a little something about some plans a Dark Lord of our acquaintance might have for some non-magical folk."

Tonks took a swig of her own beverage. "Would your knowledge in this area be more detailed than, say, 'killing as many of the buggers as possible while creating mayhem and hysteria'?"

Avery touched his nose and nodded. "It just might be, at that."

"How _much_ more detailed?" 

"Not dates and times," Avery said quickly. "I'm sure my arrest will put them behind in any case. But methods, methods I can give you… for the right price."

Tonks scratched her ear, then took another bite of her sandwich. She decided she really ought to ask for the recipe as well. Not that her chances of making it successfully were all that good. "And what else?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"For a corner cell in Azkaban, probably." 

Avery leaned forward conspiratorially. "What does a bloke have to do to get something more in the line of house arrest?"

Mimicking him, Tonks leaned forward as well. "I'd say he'd have to be very helpful. Something more along the lines of answering all of our questions and volunteering any extra tidbits that he happens to have on hand."

"And if he was very helpful, what's to ensure he would get this deal?"

"My word as an Auror."

Avery leaned back again. "Now you seem like a nice lady… a bit barmy to be marrying Snape, but nice all the same… but you'll understand if the aforesaid bloke didn't find that very reassuring."

Tonks brushed some crumbs off her sleeve. "I suppose I could have Madam Bones draw something official up… but it'd be awfully hard to convince her of your eagerness to help without some gesture of goodwill or the like… er, we were referring to you, weren't we?"

Avery winked. "Got it in one, chickadee. So, what kind of juicy morsel would tempt Madam Bones?"

Tonks thought for a moment and then played a hunch. "I've heard rumors about some place that your crowd is gathering… some old underground Muggle place that you're making into a stronghold - what can you tell me about that?"

Avery sat back farther in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Not as much as I'd like to be able to, believe me. Can't tell you where it is, we just Apparate where we're called. And I don't know as I'd call it a 'stronghold' so much as a base of operations… there are these handy tunnels and pipes that would be convenient for that mayhem I'm not mentioning until I get my deal in writing."

"That's all you can give me?"

"I wish I could give you more, but Muggle London isn't really something I'm all that familiar with."

Something was nagging at Tonks, but she couldn't quite pinpoint it. "It's here in London?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

Tonks gnawed on a fingernail. "We've had people looking all over the country for it."

"More fool you."

"Be nice. All right, then, I'll let Madam Bones know what you've told me, and we'll see what we can draw up." Tonks stood and gathered her things. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Avery."

"Give my regards to Snape," Avery said with an airy wave of one hand as he settled back onto his cot. "Oh," he added eerily, "I wouldn't take too long getting all that legal mumbo-jumbo ironed out – your Muggles don't have forever."

Tonks resisted the urge to respond, and instead walked over to the cell door. Only when the cell door clanged shut behind her and she was out of the prisoner's sight did she allow herself to relax.

Her relaxation might have been premature, however. She endured another round of jibes about the previous night's near-death experience on the way back to Madam Bones' office. Only Aurors, she decided, could be so easily amused by a poisoning and an overbearing fiancé.

"Oh bugger it - I'm beginning to think like Snape," she muttered to herself as she knocked on Madam Bones' door.

The dour woman put aside the stack of papers she was reading from and gestured for Tonks to come into her office. "And what did our prisoner have to say?"

"The prisoner is prepared to provide us with information if we promise to keep him out of Azkaban."

Madam Bones frowned. "What kind of information?"

"He says that You-Know-Who is planning a massive attack on Muggle London. They've got some sort of underground base here."

"Are we certain this a real plot?"

Tonks nodded. "I've been hearing rumors about something of the sort. I did give him Veritaserum as well, though I'm not entirely sure that worked on him – he seemed in full control of what he said. Either he has found a way to counteract the Veritaserum, or he's too disturbed for it to work properly."

"And how much information can he provide us?"

It was Tonks' turn to frown. "Not as much as we'd like, it seems. Can't tell us when or where… but he did seem to know who, what and how."

Madam Bones looked out her enchanted window for a moment. It was charmed to show a blustery autumn day, Tonks noted, despite the fact that it was currently midsummer. "That is not enough to keep him out of Azkaban."

Tonks bit the corner of her lip for a moment. Advocating for the Death Eater made her feel dirty inside, but it was important that whatever Voldemort was plotting was stopped before it killed thousands of Muggles. "Y'know, the Muggles have this game they call 'good cop, bad cop' – it might be worth it to send someone else in to interrogate him while I'm out… someone terrifying."

"It's worth more than your job if you decide to nominate me for the task, Nymphadora Tonks," Madam Bones warned with an arched eyebrow.

"Wasn't thinking of you, ma'am. Not that I don't think you couldn't be terrifying, provided you wanted to be terrifying, of course… er… but I was thinking more along the lines of Mad-Eye Moody."

Madam Bones' eyebrow lowered only slightly. "Alastor Moody is retired."

"Has anyone attempted to tell him that?" Tonks asked with a knowing grin. "I suppose there's always that fiancé of mine who you're all so fascinated with."

"I suppose we could bring Alastor in as a consultant," Madam Bones mused. "Have my secretary owl him on your way out." 

Tonks took that for a dismissal and stood up.

"And you had better hurry if you don't want to be late for your interview with the _Prophet_," Madam Bones said with a slight smirk. "After all, it's rather widely known that your fiancé does not tolerate tardiness."

Tonks waited until she had turned her back to her superior before rolling her eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, Tonks?" 

Tonks turned to regard her supervisor as politely as she could, given the circumstances and her strong urge to flee the scene. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You know I do expect an invitation to this wedding of yours." It might have been just a trick of the light on her monocle, but Tonks could have sworn she saw Amelia Bones wink.

* * *

The Atrium had cleared out for the day, apparently by order of the Minister of Magic himself. Torn banners hung limply from the walls and trampled signs littered the floors like forgotten leaflets in an abandoned train terminal. Tonks was pleased to see, however, that the Fountain of Magical Brethren still proudly sported their anti-Ministry signs. Apparently no one had seen fit to remove them yet.

Due to the earlier near-riot conditions, only those with "official business" were allowed to visit the Ministry for the rest of the day, although Tonks noted that Snape had nevertheless managed to haunt the place without being accosted.

"The underground place we've been looking for is here in London," Tonks said by way of greeting. "Oh, and Avery sends his best."

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "Avery is a very dangerous man."

"Y'know, I hadn't realized that when he was hurling slicing hexes and the killing curse in my direction yesterday, but now that you say so, I believe it."

"Sarcasm is unbecoming on you, dearest."

"What?" Tonks asked with a quick grin. "Doesn't it match with my hair?"

"Very little would."

Tonks concentrated a moment and grew her hair out to mimic his own oily locks. "How about now?"

Snape took a step closer to her. "I shouldn't have to warn you that I am also a dangerous man."

Tonks matched his step forward and transformed her hair again so it had dark purple streaks. "You keep saying that, but so far you haven't done anything to back it up."

There was a speculative gleam in Snape's eyes as he took yet another step forward. 

"Aha! There's our lovebirds, now!" The voice of Josephus Elkins echoed jarringly in the cavernous Atrium. Tonks turned to see him escorting a woman towards them. "Severus, Nymphadora, allow me to introduce you to the reporter from the _Daily Prophet_. She'll take good care of you, I'm certain."

The woman stepped forward and offered her hand. "Rita Skeeter. Delighted to meet the Ministry's new wonder couple."

* * *

A/N: So there you go... a long-awaited update. Sorry about that; bad stuff happened.

Many thanks to the wonderful Verity Brown for beta-reading and the fabulous Wartcap for britpicking! 


	13. Eleven and a Half

ELEVEN AND A HALF

Dear Mum,

Received your letter yesterday. Attached is an opinion from Kent Westbrook (mind control expert for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement) certifying that I am not under the Imperius Curse or any other detectable form of mind control. I have also attached a letter from Dr. Antasius Jelk in which he attests that I have not sustained any recent head injuries and I am experiencing a better-than-average recovery from Bundimun secretion poisoning. ('Average recovery' being something along the lines of death, since I'm certain you'll look it up anyway. I'm fine, Mum, I swear. You have Snape to thank for that.)

Dumbledore also wanted me to remind you that while your assessment of my fiancé's background and character might be rather accurate, he remembers that Grandpa and Grandmum Tonks had similar objections to _you_. He can be horribly pointed when he wants to be, can't he?

Speaking of the Grands, Snape and I will try to visit them this weekend, I promise. Yes, I know we should definitely meet with you and Dad before the wedding. We've a lot of details to iron out in a short time, so you'll understand if we're a bit distracted. And, yes, I do realize I've begun thinking in "we's" -- it terrifies me, too.

Love,

Jane (which is a much better name than 'Nymphadora' when you think about it.)

P.S. Pay no attention to anything you might read about me in the newspaper article I clipped out for you. We lied through our teeth.

P.P.S. Except the Bundimun secretion poisoning bit. That part's unfortunately true.

P.P.P.S. Also, Willy Wood is a prat. (1)

* * *

To Whom It May Concern: 

It is my opinion that Ms. N. Tonks is free of the influence of mind-controlling substances and her actions are not being directed by the Imperius Curse.

She appears to be marrying Severus Snape of her own free will.

Kent Westbrook, DMP (2)

* * *

Dear Madam, 

Your daughter asked me to write to assure you that she is recovering from her inadvertent Bundimun secretion poisoning. Her vital signs are strong and all sources indicate that she will make a full recovery, thanks in no small part to Professor Snape's miraculous new antidote.

After a thorough examination of Miss Nymphadora Tonks, I can also assure you that she has not suffered any recent damage to her mind.

Your concern for your daughter's well-being is admirable.

Sincerely,

Antasius Jelk, WD (3)

* * *

**My Thoughts on the Marriage Programme**  
By Rita Skeeter 

It is unlikely by now that anyone in the Wizarding World has not read about the Ministry's Marriage Programme. Flurries of articles have already been written about the ground-breaking legislation -- there have been those expressing wholehearted support for the new law, protest pieces, those urging lonely singles to take advantage of it in order to snare an otherwise hesitant match, and even one rather interesting piece outlining how the Marriage Programme will lead to an increase in fetish behavior and deviant lifestyles.

This reporter was initially hesitant to leap into the fray; however, when I was contacted by the Ministry for an exclusive interview, I found I could no longer in good conscience deprive the Wizarding World of the opportunity to read my thoughts on the matter.

Certainly the Ministry's new Marriage Programme has stunned many; it is, if nothing else, a daring move from a previously lackluster and weak-willed Fudge administration. Like any bold undertaking, it has been the source of some controversy. (Ministry officials report that there was a small group gathered in protest in the Atrium of the Ministry earlier, but they had dispersed by mid-day.)

Opponents of the Marriage Programme challenge that the edict will restrict a wizard or witch's choice of partner. Josephus Elkins, the head of the new Planning Office, says that this is simply not so, and he denies that the programme is as radical as its opponents claim. He points to arranged marriage between pureblooded witches and wizards as a far more restrictive predecessor to the Marriage Programme.

'Back in the old days there was courting, of course,' the hoary-haired department head expounded, 'but in the end it always came down to families. The family told you who you could marry, and "it was only a newt who crossed 'em," as the saying goes.

'The idea that a witch and a wizard ought to fall head over heals into romantic love before they marry is really a modern convention,' Mr. Elkins explained, 'only appearing as recently as the Fourteenth Century. It was also -- and I feel many will be surprised to hear this -- introduced to the Wizarding World by none other than Muggles. Indeed, some have theorized that it has led not only to some young people putting off marriage in hopes of finding the perfect partner, but also to an astonishing increase in the separation rate.

'Now here's the important bit: Our experts have discovered that, simply by mandating that witches and wizards of a certain age accept offers of marriage -- with screening for suitability, of course -- we can not only reverse the population decrease of the last several generations, but also decrease the number of Squibs produced.

'But that's all technical stuff -- bound to make your head muddled -- and I want to be sure to mention,' Mr. Elkins added as a sly aside, 'that if our young people want to experience the fluttering bellies and heaving chests of young love, the Ministry is willing to oblige them in that desire. Only ask, and it can be arranged.'

Mr. Elkins is most pleased by the fact that the programme has convinced couples who had put off marriage to come out of the woodwork and tie the knot. It has, he will admit with a glimmer in his eye, led to some unexpected, even counterintuitive, pairings. He points to the first couple to be engaged under the programme as an example of such an unexpected pairing.

It is here that I am pleased to introduce you, my dear readers, to Severus Snape and Nymphadora Tonks. 'The first ones in the door,' Mr. Elkins introduced them to me with a smile and a sly nudge to Mr. Snape's ribs. 'The ink wasn't yet dry on the parchment of the Marriage Programme legislation when these two came running in.'

Miss Tonks and Mr. Snape sat down with me this afternoon to tell me their story, which I now relate to you. At first glance, it would seem to be a strange romance: He is a Hogwarts professor, reputed to have once been a Death Eater, she is an Auror. He is in his middle years, a forbidding figure swathed in traditional black teaching robes. The gloom of a dark past still haunts his onyx eyes. She is pretty young witch with a heart-shaped face and a penchant for shocking hairstyles. Sunshine and rainbows linger in her laugh.

I asked them to tell me about their past, and as their tale unfolded, told in turns by Miss Snape and Mr. Tonks, I became enraptured by their history and came to understand the truth of Mr. Elkins' earlier words. I relate their story to you, my readers, in the hopes that you will be similarly touched.

Before the Marriage Programme was a glimmer in Mr. Elkins' eye, the pair's courtship began at a Ministry Ball. 'I wasn't that keen to attend,' Miss Tonks will admit, and Mr. Snape's glower would seem to convey a world of impatience at the inane preening of petty sycophants. Yet however reluctant they were to attend, the evening's events would change them forever.

It was a balmy summer evening; an enchanted breeze fluttered through the otherwise humid London air. Miss Tonks had wandered out onto a balcony to escape the chaos of the ballroom. Little did she know that her erstwhile Potions professor had also chosen to secret himself among the night's shadows on that selfsame balcony.

They might have gone on blissfully unaware of the other's presence, but for Fate intervening in the form of one of Miss Tonks' former boyfriends. It was immediately apparent to her that he had indulged in too much Firewhisky, and what began as an attempt to convince her to take him back quickly escalated into a terrifying assault. It was then, as Miss Tonks vainly struggled to escape the inebriated inamorato, that Mr. Snape felt compelled to reveal himself and come to her rescue.

'He hexed the fellow sober,' Miss Tonks recounted proudly, patting her fiancé's knee, 'and then when he was sure he could understand him, he started to tell him off. My Snarkypants, here, is a bit overprotective.'

'Your Snarkypants,' Mr. Snape replied with a feigned sneer, 'has every right to be concerned when his fiancée insists on running headlong into danger without a moment's forethought or consideration.' He made a gesture toward the fact that Miss Tonks' left arm was in a sling.

It was then I learned that only last night, Ms. Tonks was nearly killed by a rare poison that she was exposed to in the course of her duties as an Auror [See C4: Dustup on Diagon Alley. The poison would have been fatal, except that Mr. Snape devised an antidote with only seconds left to save Ms. Tonks' life. One can only imagine the horror he felt, knowing that, in those breathless moments, the very life of the woman that he loved depended on his skill and nerve.

This reporter found, in this moment of inspired clarity, a tantalizing hint at the couple's deeper feelings: their sort of playful banter is seasoned with a hint of danger and sharpened to an erotic edge. That Mr. Snape is her knight in shining armor, Ms. Tonks will not disagree. Nor will Mr. Snape deny that Ms. Tonks brings color into the darkness of his dungeon. They are indeed a well-matched, if unexpected, pair.

After allowing me this brief glimpse into what must have been a thoroughly traumatizing experience for them, they turn the conversation back to the aftermath of the scuffle on the Ministry balcony.

Once he had thoroughly chastised Miss Tonks' erring former boyfriend and sent him on his way, Mr. Snape turned to the woman he had aided, and found, much to his surprise, that she was none other than a former student. 'I was stunned, of course,' Mr. Snape allowed. 'I had not recognized her -- and I did not expect to stumble across a student of mine at a Ministry function.' He admits he planned to make his excuses and withdraw into the shadows again, but something drew him to the delicate beauty and he lingered a moment longer.

'I didn't want to go back into the Ball,' Miss Tonks related. "My dress was torn in places and my make-up was ruined. I was really a terrible mess. I begged Professor Snape to stay with me. And my hair was horrid,' she added, touching one hand to her amethyst tresses.

Mr. Snape smiled in recollection. 'She looked as lovely to me then as she ever has. A vision.' Instead of leaving as he had planned, he found himself doing the gentlemanly thing and summoning her a glass of nettle wine to calm her. Moments slipped into hours, and the couple spent the rest of the evening out on that balcony, lost in conversation under the enchanted stars.

Their relationship continued, unbeknownst to both friends and colleagues, until two mornings ago, when they read the announcement of the Marriage Programme.  
'We hadn't even discussed marriage,' Miss Tonks confided to me, "but once we read about the Ministry's new programme in the Daily Prophet, suddenly it seemed like a brilliant idea.' With only a moment's consideration, Mr. Snape proposed. 'And considering we fell in love at a Ministry function,' Miss Tonks added, 'it only made sense to get married under this Programme.'

What does the future hold for them, I ask. 'Well, a wedding, definitely,' Miss Tonks answered. And after that? Mr. Snape's lips curled into a smile as he turned to regard his fiancée with eyes like steaming cauldrons. 'We shall see.'

One can't but help feeling that Mr. Snape's sentiment holds true to the Wizarding World in general. How will this Marriage Programme effect our way of life? This reporter tends to think that, like Mr. Snape and Miss Tonks, we will have to see.

* * *

Severus, 

I was surprised to read in this morning's _Prophet_ that congratulations on your impending nuptials are in order, and, if Rita Skeeter is to be believed, you are apparently wandering around smiling at people. I want you to know that I wish you and Miss Tonks the very best, and unless you let me in on your little plot, you will have as many happy hours of detention with Longbottom as I can possibly arrange.  
Minerva

* * *

Footnotes:  
(1) Andromeda Tonks suggested a young wizard named Willy Wood as an alternative to Snape in her Howler.  
(2) DMP - Doctorate of Magical Persuasion  
(3) WD - Wizarding Doctor

* * *

Many thanks to my beta, Verity Brown and britpicker, Wartcap. They are awesome and everyone should know it 


	14. Twelve

"Evenin' Snarkypants," Tonks said as she swung into the booth at The Three Broomsticks.

Snape looked up for a moment. "And how was your afternoon, dearest?" In the dim amber light of the inn's common room, Tonks couldn't read his expression - not that there was likely anything there that brighter lighting would have revealed.

"Just peachy. After our little interview with Ms. Skeeter – whom I've invited to the wedding, by the way – I penned a quick letter to my mum and then spent the rest of the afternoon chasing down minor Death Eaters."

"Good to hear, dear," Snape said. He toyed with a mug of butterbeer while another sat beside it untouched. "I am pleased to see that you're not bleeding any unusual colors this evening."

Tonks spared a glance at the jagged, half-healed cut on her forearm. "Thought I'd go with the traditional color tonight."

"It is most becoming on you."

"Thank you." Tonks smiled the tight little smile that Snape seemed to bring out in her while she waited for the other shoe to drop.

A slight twist in his lips warned her of the imminent arrival of one of his acidic comments. "And I notice your _unerring_ sense of style prompted you to coordinate your hair with it."

"Well, yes. Red is for romance after all." Tonks pointed her finger Rita Skeeter-style at the untouched butterbeer. "Is that my beverage?"

Snape inclined his head briefly and slid the mug across the table to her. "It is indeed."

She caught the mug without spilling more than a drop or two and sniffed critically at the contents drinking from it. "Y'know, every time you give me something to drink, I can't shake the feeling that you've poisoned it."

The twist in Snape's lips widened into a grin. "That, my dear Nymphadora, is what living with Alastor Moody will do to you."

"And what will living with you do to me?" she wondered aloud.

His eyes shifted away from her almost guiltily. "Ideally this arrangement will not last long enough for that to be an issue."

"Ideally?" Tonks asked, leaning forward like she would've if they had been seated across an interrogation table. "Does that mean you are considering the possibility that this might not end... 'ideally'?"

Snape nodded his head and then matched her stare. It might have been a trick of the low light, but Tonks thought she saw the faintest of glimmers in his dark eyes. "I would not be the wizard I am if I didn't."

"I suppose I'll grant you that one," Tonks said, smiling slightly. Just then, she caught sight of the Weasley twins. "Behave yourself," she warned Snape. "We need them to wreak havoc and mayhem."

"Why if it isn't the lady with the bat herself!" Fred exclaimed jovially.

"And the bat himself!" George added.

Fred nodded at each of them with mock-officiousness. "Miss Snape, Mr. Tonks – so good to see you."

"Percival," Snape acknowledged without missing a beat.

"Ooh - low blow, Professor." Fred looked more amused than annoyed by Snape's greeting. "Pleasantries aside, WWW hears you are in the market for specialty foodstuffs."

"And we are here to oblige," George added, brandishing a brief case. "May we join you?"

Tonks gave up her bench to the twins and sat beside Snape. "I thought I said 'no samples.' "

George looked affronted. "Merely pricing brochures and informational pamphlets."

"Only one sample, in point of fact," Fred corrected, removing what could only be described as a shapeless knick-knack from his pocket and placing it in the middle of the table. "A prototype Eaves-Dropper. Scrambles the immediate conversation for anyone listening in and replaces it with innocuous and utterly incoherent babble."

George snorted. "The only minor glitch it seems to have is a tendency to make people think we're speaking like American Muggles."

"We're still ironing that part out," Fred admitted. "Now, then, we thought we would start out the evening with a light sampling of the more or less undetectable products and potions," he smoothly launching into what sounded like a practiced sales pitch. "An open bar and the finger snacks that Tonks suggested. Mostly recreational substances, such as Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts and Babbling Beverages… perhaps an Elixir to Induce Euphoria or two. This, of course, would be mostly in your purview, Professor. Something to ease them into the festivities without alerting them. If the canapés start turning people into canaries, for instance, people might become a little suspicious."

"I think I can manage something appropriate," Snape said.

"We have ever confidence in your ability, Professor."

"I'm touched."

George grinned at him. "Moving on to the main course… "

Tonks took a sip of her butterbeer and then set the mug down again abruptly. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I should visit the loo." She edged herself out of the booth. "You gentlemen continue to plot amongst yourselves."

Snape raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"I didn't use the little witches' room before I left the office. I'll be back before you miss me, I promise."

There was a glimmer of almost appreciative amusement in his eyes. "I think we can be certain of that."

Tonks inclined her head regally to him before pivoting on one heel and making her way to the washroom. "Ta."

Once she was ensconced in the relative safety of the women's washroom, she fished a tiny bottle from the inside pocket of her robe and downed the clear liquid in a single gulp. "Bloody wanker." She'd been expecting something like this after he asked her to pick up the powdered pearl from Slug and Jigger's... and it wasn't as if she could have missed the shimmering potion in his lab this morning. "_I could brew a mild draught…" indeed! _Who did he bloody well think he was dealing with? It was an insult... personal, professional... whatever. A bleeding insult to her to assume that she'd be such an easy mark.

"We'll see about that." Tonks splashed a little cold water on her face and shared a conspiratorial grin with her reflection in the glass. This was a game two could play.

As she approached the table again, Tonks strained her ears to hear the conversation, testing out this Eaves-Dropper device. Snape was saying something that she could barely make out. "...I know it – A way up to the roof... There was a party – celebration – all of a sudden they were – you don't work for Nakatomi..."

It was admittedly odd to hear Snape speaking with an American accent. "Who doesn't work for wossname?" she asked as she swung in next to him.

"Sorry?"

"What were you saying?"

George took a sip of his butterbeer and then wiped his mouth. "We were setting a date."

"Congratulations," Tonks said. It seemed appropriate at the time, even if it wasn't a particularly brilliant remark. "So no one mentioned working for anyone or rooftop parties?"

Snape just looked at her quizzically, but Fred grinned broadly. "I see our Eaves-Dropper is preforming satisfactorily."

"You were right about the accent bit, though," Tonks told them. "Makes it sound a mite suspicious." She paused momentarily when she turned her head to look at Snape. There was something she ought to be doing, and it involved making the bastard pay. It just came down to finding the courage to do it.

"The date, dear," Snape reminded her. "We need to choose one."

It was time for Tonks to do something very brave. The problem, of course, was bringing herself to do it. _You're a bloody Auror, _she reminded herself, _you can _do _this. _Beneath the table, so the twins wouldn't see, she reached out and put her hand on Snape's leg. She made herself look into his eyes and watched as he didn't react at all. Just for that, she started to slide her hand up his leg. "Let's do it as soon as possible, snookums dearest."

"How's Saturday for you?" A hand covered hers under the table, preventing it from traveling any farther. Long fingers traced a pattern on the back of her hand and her wrist. It could almost have seemed absent-minded the way his fingers ghosted over her hand, except that she was well aware that he never did anything that wasn't entirely deliberate and exhaustively premeditated. _So, Snape seduces,_ she thought almost academically. The reference to academics thrust her back to her school days and she was suddenly reminded of how very odd this situation would have seemed to her seventeen-year-old self. _Downright __pervy,_ she decided, _and not in the good way._

A flash of anger cleared away her Snape-induced distraction. _He seduces a woman in a drugged state – one that he put her in himself, the bastard._ "It can't come soon enough." She linked fingers with him and squeezed his hand. "I'll owl my mum later and let her know. So, how are our plots progressing?"

Damn the man, but he still looked perfectly normal. "Well enough, I think. Between us, we should be able to provide what we need... and Minerva has been so kind as to 'volunteer' her services as well, so we will have an extra wand there."

Tonks was momentarily taken aback. "Minerva... McGonnagal? Isn't she more of a rules type?"

Snape chuckled. "Only when they're her rules."

George nodded sagely. "We'd noticed that during the Umbridge occupation. We'll contact her tomorrow."

Tonks frowned. "Is she going to tell Dumbledore... or are _we_ going to tell Dumbledore?"

"No doubt he already knows or suspects enough. This is the sort of thing that the Headmaster finds..." Snape paused for a moment as he searched for the appropriate word. "_Fun_. I wouldn't want to spoil his surprise."

"Y'know, as long as we're holding the wedding at Hogwarts, we could always recruit Peeves as well," Fred mused.

Snape seemed to consider it. Tonks took the opportunity to slip her foot out of her shoe and into the leg of his trousers. She wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to do at that point, but she figured it would come to her eventually. "I... believe that might be going too far," Snape said at last. "Peeves is... unpredictable at best."

"But where causing chaos is concerned, Peeves is the top in the field," Fred reminded him.

"We learned most of what we know from him," George added.

Tonks had a feeling Snape was correct on the Peeves issue. "I dunno. Seems to me that we want something more along the lines of carefully orchestrated chaos – we want to embarrass the Ministry, not..."

"To end up in Azkaban for endangering the welfare of Ministry officials?" Snape finished. He disentangled his trouser leg from her foot and deftly hooked his own under hers so that she couldn't play that trick again. It left Tonks in a somewhat awkward position.

"Think on the bright side," George began.

"Maybe they'd let you share a cell," Fred finished for him.

Tonks turned to Snape. "The Dementor's kiss looks more appealing every day."

The faintest of smiles suggested that Snape appreciated that she was in some way comparing him with a Dementor and all that went with it. Tonks felt her hair going a little pink at the root. Apparently her antidote was not one hundred percent effective.

"Are we done here then?" Snape cast a quick glance at the twins.

George looked at his brother. "I can't think of anything else, can you?"

"Only the minor issue of fees."

"What – you're not doing this as a wedding present?" Tonks asked more-or-less facetiously.

"Much as we would like to make a gift of our services to you, we're afraid that running a business in these troubled times requires some observance of the bottom line."

"The Ministry will be picking up the tab," Snape said. "Submit your bills to them."

"You can rest assured that we will," Fred said with a conspiratorial grin.

"I'd advise making sure you get paid _before_ the wedding reception," Tonks said.

George nodded and touched the side of his nose slyly. "Excellent thinking, if I do say so myself. Well then..."

"We'll be in touch if we think of anything else." Both twins stood and Fred deftly pocketed the Eaves-Dropper. Snape released Tonks' leg and stood as well. Tonks barely managed to scramble to her feet. "Goodnight, Mr. Tonks. Miss Snape."

"WWW Catering is glad you have chosen to hire us for your special day."

The double pop of their Disapparation sounded through the pub. Tonks found herself rolling her eyes at the twins' deliberate flouting of manners.

"I suppose it was inevitable that they would leave me with the bill." Snape sounded almost amused. Under normal circumstances, Tonks would've insisted on paying part of it, but she was a little too irked with the git before her to want to bother, so she kept silent. "I'll settle up with Rosmerta. Walk with me back to Hogwarts."

Tonks frowned. "I thought I would Apparate home tonight." On one hand she really wanted to sleep in her own bed tonight, but on the other she really hadn't been all that effective at making Snape pay. And she rather wanted to see what nefarious plans he had for her...

"There is no way I will be allowing you to Apparate anywhere when you have been drinking."

Well, that was a flimsy excuse if she'd ever heard one. "It's butterbeer, Snape. They give it to third-years. And I haven't even finished mine."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I would suggest you do that then."

It occurred to Tonks that he was being infuriatingly agreeable... and that it must be costing him some considerable effort to be so. Somehow, the idea of Snape seething under his mask of affability made her feel vaguely... happy. She raised her mug and drained it.

* * *

The walk back to Hogwarts was, it turned out, painfully awkward. Snape seemed content to let her lope along beside him as silence stretched out like the long dark pathway before them. For her part, Tonks was somewhat less than content with this arrangement, but she hadn't yet managed to think of something to say that wasn't completely inane.

"I spoke to Miss Hibbins again this afternoon."

"Oh?" Snape didn't sound particularly interested, but Tonks chose to infer an interrogative at the end of his monosyllabic answer.

"She caught me in the hallway while Kingsley and I were running out to knock some Death Eater heads together. Volunteered to help us put together the guest list on account of the short time before the wedding."

"That was considerate of her."

"I thought so. She said there were some people she wouldn't want us to accidentally overlook."

It seemed that Snape pondered for a moment before answering. "Undoubtedly she would know better than we who in the Ministry ought to be included."

"By virtue of their intimate involvement in getting us together."

"Indeed," Snape said, although his tone suggested that she'd hardly needed to say that.

Tonks felt the conversation flounder and die. It occurred to her that things were not going as she had expected them to. As Snape took the fork in the pathway that cut through the Forbidden Forest, Tonks felt a faint hope light up within her, but that extinguished a moment later when she remembered that taking the path through the Forest was significantly faster than skirting the edge. She'd taken it herself often enough for that very reason when she was a student. The fact that it had been strictly off-limits had only served as extra incentive.

It was also, she remembered belatedly, half-overgrown and studded with gnarled tree roots. This last thought occurred to her as she tripped over one of the aforesaid gnarled tree roots and pitched forward into the dark. She caught herself a moment later and managed to land in a more-or-less upright position. Unfortunately, her acrobatic maneuverings put her even farther behind Snape. She could just barely make out the swish of his cloak as he disappeared into the darkness ahead.

Tonks swore under her breath and picked up the pace to try to catch up. This resulted in her tripping over several more roots, nearly being bowled over by a low-hanging tree branch, and becoming uncomfortably close to a tree that oughtn't have been where it was (namely in the middle of the path).

It appeared that Snape was attempting to torment her for something again... although she couldn't for the life of her figure out what that would be. She didn't really want to spend too much time pondering about it, either – not when there were phantom tree parts out there to contend with.

The solution to her more immediate problems belatedly occurred to her. Tonks drew her wand. "Lumos!"

Snape whirled. "_Nox._" And then it was dark again and Tonks was all the blinder for her moment of illumination. She could sense Snape closing the distance between them._ "_Have you forgotten where we are?"

"How in the bloody hell could I do that when I'm tripping over tree roots every blasted step I take!?"

"Have you also remembered the Acromantulas? The centaurs? Tolls? It is called the _Forbidden_ Forest for a reason, I would remind you."

"Don't forget the blood-sucking bugbears," Tonks muttered under her breath, certain that Snape could hear her. "And bowtruckles, glumumbles, puffskeins... who knows? Maybe you'll run into a unicorn. You can bridle it with a strand of your hair."

Snape was near enough that she could see the outline of his pale face in the moonlight that filtered in patches through the canopy. "It would not be wise to draw such attention to ourselves."

"Honestly, when have we ever been inclined to do what's wise, Snape?"

"Indeed."

She was absolutely certain then that he was going to hex her. It therefore came as a complete surprise when she discovered they were snogging instead. A brief period of amnesia seemed to span between the the one moment and the next.

She felt her heart beat more quickly and stomach somersault. The semi-lucid thoughts that tried to introject themselves suggested that one did not kiss Snape. It seemed a forbidden thing... as forbidden as the forest they were in. Bloody dangerous, too. But – oh, you know, it wasn't bad. She could feel the thrill of adrenaline in her veins and pulled him closer to her. In response, Snape wrested control again and backed her into a nearby tree.

She fought to breathe for a moment without panting too obviously when he finally broke the kiss. His lips skimmed across her jawline and then he kissed the hollow just below her ear. Tonks let her eyes close. She knew she'd have to end the love potion charade at some point, but, all things considered, she found herself disinclined to object to this treatment by her fiancé.

"Nymphadora."

"Mmm." Words, Tonks found, were proving a little difficult to come up with at that precise moment.

"Look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

_Now why in the world would he..? _Tonks opened her eyes and squinted. "Leaves. Branches. Some sky here and there..."

"And in that patch of sky?"

"The moon, stars... lots of dark stuff, bits of clouds..." She trailed off as he kissed her throat.

"Tell me, Nymphadora, what is the phase of the moon?"

"Er..." Tonks tried to focus on the luminous orb. It was either nearly full or just past full. She thought for a moment and seemed to remember it having been somewhat less full recently. "Waxing gibbous?"

"And what does that suggest to you?"

"Oh _bugger._" She didn't need any further prompting from Snape to see where he was going with this. A waxing gibbous moon meant the moon hadn't been full for some time, and he wouldn't have had the opportunity to brew the love potion she had assumed that he'd brewed with the powdered pearl. Worse, it meant that he knew that she had suspected him of having brewed it and dosed her with it.

"An interesting suggestion," he said, his voice still all-too-close, "but not entirely the answer I was looking for."

Tonks hit him upside the head and struggled to push him away from her. "You effing bloody devious, conniving bastard. You deliberately led me to believe you slipped me a love potion!"

A moment later, he had her hands pinned above her head. "I beg to differ. Your own suspicious mind led you to believe that I had slipped you a love potion."

Tonks took a quick breath. This was not precisely a position she was used to being in... and she still hadn't quite managed to discern why Snape had gone to all the trouble of deceiving her. "Well then you ruddy well led my suspicious mind to lead me to believe that you'd slipped me the love potion."

"And you decided to punish me by playing into my hands? Some might consider that entrapment, Auror Tonks."

It occurred to Tonks that she was quite literally in Snape's hands and that he had her trapped, but luckily her ability to think clearly hadn't entirely deserted her. "That would be the same 'some' who have no blasted clue about the law but a persistent urge to blather on about it, right?"

Snape released her hands, but didn't move away enough for Tonks to be able to get free. "For my part, I am offended that you could believe I would slip any sort of potion to a witch who had so recently very nearly died. Allow me some sort of credit as a careful man, if not an entirely pleasant one."

Tonks poked him in the chest with one finger. "So you changed your mind and decided that you could bring about much the same effect with only a mind game. But you'd intended that powdered pearl to be for me before I was injured."

"Don't flatter yourself, dear. I merely thought it would be an appropriate addition to the wedding feast..." He paused, and Tonks could almost feel one of his eyebrows rise and the corner of his mouth quirk. "Although I will reserve some for you if you wish."

"You're... utterly remorseless."

"I believe I achieved my end." Snape paused again, and this time it felt like a long time before he spoke again. "Tell me, Nymphadora... did you wonder whether your antidote was working properly?"

Tonks attempted to stomp on one of his feet, but her legs seemed to be all tangled up with his. "I wonderwhy you still have me pinned to this tree."

"I am simply making sure I have made my point clear."

"Your pointhas been made obvious, Severus."

"Then I am satisfied for now." Snape stepped back, away from Tonks, and turned to continue down the path. She pushed herself away from the tree trunk and stood wobbily on her own two feet, wondering, for a moment, what had just happened.

"Oh," Snape said, pivoting and striding toward her again, "before I forget, I have something for you."

"Oh?"

"I ought to do this properly." With a dramatic flourish of his robes, Snape kneeled at Tonks' feet and produced what she could only assume was a ring. She certainly caught the flash of a large pale jewel in the moonlight. "Would you do me the honor of making me the most miserable wizard on the planet?"

Tonks thought about it for a moment. "Do I have the option of rejecting you?"

"It would seem to be a little late for that."

"Well, then I accept your offer and promise to do my best to make that happen."

"I'm sure. Take the ring so I can get up off the ground. There's a root digging into my knee."

Tonks hesitantly took the ring from Snape's outstretched hand. It felt strange and heavy.

"Do you like it?"

Snape, Tonks noticed, had stood again and was looming over her in the darkness. She examined the ring more closely. It seemed to be an enormous crystal – aquamarine if she guessed correctly – set in heavy, age-tarnished silver that was wrought in the vague, menacing shapes of half-forgotten nightmares. In the dim light of the nearly-full (waxing gibbous, she noted wryly) moon, the gem shone the milky, soulless blue of an inferius' eyes.

"It's grotesque... it's fantastic... it's perfect."

"I'm glad you appreciate it."

Tonks slid the ring onto her finger. "Merlin, where did you get this thing?"

"My mother's cold, dead hand of course."

"Cor... Seriously?"

"I picked it up in a pawn shop on Knockturn Alley and spent half the afternoon breaking the curses on it. But if anyone inquires..."

"It's an ancient family heirloom that you engaged in unspeakable acts of grave-robbery and corpse-desecration to acquire for me. Got it." Looking at the ring on her finger, Tonks felt as if her hand had become somehow disembodied or dispossessed. "You're sure you got all of the curses?"

"Fairly certain. Shall we resume our walk back to Hogwarts then?"

There was a rustling in the woods. "We'd appreciate it if you did."

Tonks whirled, her wand out, but the curse she had ready died on her lips when she recognized their visitors. Centaurs. There were three of them. Tonks put her wand away. "Bloody hell – how long have you buggers been there?"

One cleared his throat. "Long enough." Tonks thought she recognized him as Ronan, or perhaps Elnar.

"More than long enough," the second rejoined.

The third snorted. "Far too long."

"I apologize for my fiancée's excited remark, sirs." Snape's hand was digging into Tonks' upper arm and she could tell that his other hand itched to draw his wand.

"Don't be alarmed, Professor; we would not harm our friend Tonks. We are used to her... somewhat strange ways."

"Nevertheless, it might be advisable for you to return to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Bane is nearby and he has still not forgiven our colorful friend here for a certain careless remark."

Tonks smiled a little guiltily and shifted her weight. "I called him a nag. Didn't know what it meant to Centaurs at the time..."

"And likely would have called him that even if she had."

To this, Tonks shrugged. "Can't really say either way."

Snape pulled at her elbow. "We'll take your advice and make our way back to Hogwarts, now."

She heard the faint snicker of a Centaur's laugh as Snape managed to pull her away and down the path.

"Oh!"

"Yes, Friend Tonks?"

"Anything in the stars about Saturday?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to share?"

"Only this," the Centaur said, "at precisely 8:43 p.m.... _duck_." With that, the three Centaurs turned and crashed through the woods. Tonks looked at Snape, shrugged, and together they took the path back to Hogwarts.


End file.
